There are so, so many things I would love to say to you right now, and if I still lived at home, I probably would have gotten the chance to say them to your faces. I would’ve done it, too. What exactly makes you think you can turn around at your leisure and try to get my dad fired? And for what? Paying you five hundred dollars that we didn’t even have to do shitty work on our basement while you were out of a job? Giving you one of our refrigerators for free because you needed one? Fuck you. You’re unbelievable.
And how dare you say my father is too controlling in his job? He’s the goddamn boss. He wouldn’t let you teach because one, you never fucking showed up when you promised you would, and two, you’re a creepy douchebag who, to be completely honest, is a horrible role model for teenagers. My dad has been doing his job for nigh on thirty years now and doing it better than you ever fucking could. I might not agree with some of the things he says, but he knows how to do his job.
Last and most importantly, don’t you ever go near my little brother again.
Good fucking riddance.