I have just filed for divorce from my wife of twenty-three years. Rebecca Helen O’Shanley will always hold a special place in my heart, but I can no longer allow her poisonous anti-beef rhetoric to poison the minds of our four beautiful children. To allow her any future contact with them would be tantamount to child abuse on my part, and a complete dereliction of fatherly duty.
Rebecca has already threatened to sue me for custody, and I say let her. I’ve secretly been adding trace amounts of cocaine to her chai lattes for the last three years. Just one simple blood test and then it’s bye-bye, Mommy. Hope you like jail.
I won’t bail her out, either. Why would I? She’s out of her mind. I hope she gets arrested. I’ve already placed stolen jewelry in her purse. The woman I stole the jewelry from is Mrs. Daisy May Hill, a wealthy octogenarian who thinks I’m her gardener. All I have to do is bring the old lady down to Becky’s place of work, have her accuse Becky of theft, and Bob’s your uncle.
Crime isn’t even that hard. Everyone makes it sound so complicated but it’s actually super easy. I bet I could kill people and get away with it. If society’s current anti-beef propaganda doesn’t stop, I just may have to commit a series of beef-related murders. Not that I sit around fantasizing about murder all day. Just most of the time.
Anyway, goodbye, Rebecca. Rest assured your children are in better hands with me than they could ever be in the hands of a beef-hating communist lesbian like yourself.
I do not forgive you for your opinions. When you die, you will probably go to hell. I’ll be very surprised if you don’t go to hell. I’ll be like, “What? She didn’t go to hell? What the fuck?”
By the way, if you’re reading this, Nathan has that runny nose thing again. Roughly how much beef should I shove into his nostril?