Goat Cheese

Dear Bad Driver,
Green means go! You hotdog-eating, non-toenail-clipping wretch, the person you're talking to doesn't care what shoes you looked at whilst at the mall, you need to get off the phone. Cretin, because your car can go 80 doesn't mean that's how fast you should drive. Imbecile, wherever it is you're going to spend the remnants of the money you got from pawning your mom's favorite watch isn't more important than where I'm going, so please stop running red lights. There is a special place in hell reserved for you as you flick your smoked, but still burning menthol out'chor window.
Sincerely,
Riley

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