a letter to ed

Dear Ed,

I just really wanted to apologize again for what happened the other day. I know I back out of my driveway pretty quickly…I just couldn’t see your tiny little dog scurry under my left rear tire. I wanted you to know that, although your dog barked all day and night, I really liked the little shit. I’m not talking the little shit he would leave in my prize-winning lawn either. My daughters thought little Fluffy, or whatever his name was, was pretty cute. Why would I intentionally kill something that made my kids smile? That’s pretty fucked up if you know what I’m saying. Considering you don’t have kids of your own it would make sense that you would buy a little gerbil-sized dog. A little creature of your own that would constantly run away (like into my driveway) and bite at everyone he didn’t like; which was everyone but you, Ed. So even though my wife had to get four stitches in her right calf last summer after running three blocks down the street from your little demon spawn, I can understand why you would be upset, even though that was kind of a funny sight to see. Admit it. A Chihuahua terrorizing grown adults and small children that are still twenty times his size is just plain comedy. Remember when he pounced on the mailman from your front porch and chomped straight down on his nads? Priceless! I heard about your settlement agreement on that case by the way, $10,000 for testicular reconstruction surgery seems pretty steep Ed; you couldda just put the dog down and been on with your life. So shit, I guess this dog meant a lot to you. I probably wouldn’t even spend ten grand on my own balls to be completely honest. How old was that little thing anyway? It was lookin’ so old that it it was probably gonna die soon anyway. Sooner rather than later right? He probably wanted to go considering all the people he pissed of. He was basically askin’ for it Ed. Like, doggy suicide or some shit, right? Fuckin’ A. So again, sorry for killing your dog Ed. Just please, if you’re gonna get another dog, don’t get something that could die if stepped on.

Your neighbor,
Steve
P.s. It was a cruel joke to name that dog Fluffy. The thing looked like a fuckin’ rat.