Write a letter you'll never send

Dear M.B.,

When I worked with you I found you to be clueless at best, but mostly an annoying twit. Your holier-than-thou attitude grated on my nerves every day that I had to work near you. As much as I tried to avoid conversation with you, tight quarters demanded our interaction.

When you vehemently explained to me that no Jewish people went to work in the Twin Towers on 9/11 because they were "tipped off" to the attacks, I didn't stab you in the eye with a fork like I wanted to, but instead gently explained to you that your information was wrong. I know you still didn't believe me.

When you told me that you and your husband took the door off your sixteen year old son's bedroom, I didn't ask you how he was supposed to masturbate in private. Instead I bit my tongue because I wouldn't want to extend anything resembling an invitation for you to share your parenting tips with me.

When I saw you after I quit that job and you accused me of "jumping ship" after our boss revealed she had cancer, I let it go--though I shouldn't have seeing how you did the exact same thing a few weeks later. By the way, my leaving didn't kill her. The three packs a day for 40 years did.

I have never and will never tell you all of this because I can be what they call in the business a "grown up". Just know that every time I drive past your church, or "Hall" as you guys call it, I transmit silent 'fuck you' vibes your way.

I kind of feel sorry for you in that your religion prohibits voting. At the same time, one less fundie at the polling station bodes well for me.

When the magical JW spaceship comes down to take you and yours to Planet Watchtower, I'll be here on Earth dancing around in my underwear stuffing birthday cake into my mouth, handing out rainbow flags and free abortions.

Cheers,
Chaylene