Dear creature in possession of the DNA I carry,
I couldn’t help but notice that while I was innocently over 3,000 miles away from home for an extended period of time that you helped yourself to my room.
Actually, that is lie.
You see, if you recall I (kindly) offered the use of my room. Forever. That was damn nice of me considering it possesses a goddamn bathroom, walk-in closet, and a miniature purple Christmas tree. As you may recall, you did in fact decline.
Yet. Yet. YET!
Yet I have found that upon my arrival that you have taken the initiative to steal all of my possessions. Now, normally (so don’t go on otherwise) I am all for it. We borrow from each other often. I don’t even care if you use and take without permission. It’s all cool.
PUT THAT CRAP BACK.
Today, the first day of “Where is all my shit?”, is a day of “Where is my black jacket with the fake white hoodie thing sewn in?…”Oh, it in your closet dresser, covered in cat hair. All with the little plastic tab thingie still on, and a huge wad of your distinctively red hair wrapped around it.” And “Oh look, also my oatmeal cardigan thing is on your floor. Potentially getting eaten by nasty bugs, serving as a marker for possible places for the cats to poop, and wait! There is more! It’s… wet.” And “Where the eff is my fake popped-out-3D-shits hipster glasses? …TBD.”
That is not a good day.
And I displeased.
Revenge is in order. Now, what to do?
Stay waiting in a suffering purgatory of anticipation.
If my hipster glasses are damaged in any way, I am stealing your New 52 red finger-stripes Nightwing t-shirt, taking it to school with me, and never giving it back.