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Dear Jack Ass,
You know, Jack, I hope you're happy now that you've fired me and, apparently, gone on with your life as you know it. That
is: drinking at local bars and making a fool of yourself and coming to work with a nose that gets redder every day and a staggering
gait.
(We had bets whether you were actually drunk in the mornings or just hungover.)
However, it can't feel great that you're entering the ninth week of paying me unemployment, huh? It might've been easier
to keep me there!
But hey. While you're soaking your liver, I'm having a blast. Turns out that much as I loved that job? I love sleeping
in even better.
Oh, by the way, remember you said you were sorry you hired me at all? I believe that.
I don't believe it was true when you originally said it, but it's true now.
Curses to you, Jack.
daMOUSE
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