OPEN LETTER TO LUNCH THIEF

AN OPEN LETTER TO WHOEVER KEEPS STEALING MY LUNCH FROM THE BREAK ROOM REFRIDGERATOR

You're like a real-life Yogi Bear, swiping "pic-a-nic" baskets from the hard working Rangers in Jellystone Park.

But that's not fair to Yogi. He was lovable and misunderstood. You're just a lazy dipshit with no morals and an inverted penis.

Just so you know, I'm trying to figure out a way to stuff bumble bees in my lunch so they sting your face when you open the bag. So stay tuned for that.

Or maybe I'll steal something of yours. Maybe your filthy Starter jacket that smells like Campbell's soup, or your extensive collection of child pornography. How would that make you feel? And how do I know so much about you?

It takes a special kind of penny-sniffing megatard to steal food from coworkers, and when I finally piece this little mystery together, the only thing you'll be snacking on is Boo Boo's perineum.

See you in hell,
John Q. Sandwich

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