Hey Kevvy baby, how are you today? I know you like being cared for and tended to, what with you being in the hospital all the time with old Ukrainian nurses waiting on you. They change your poo bags, but I’d do it too, and you’d get well quicker if you were in my care. Not just because I’d give you love in ways those Rusky hags can’t, but because I’d stop dripping arsenic in your pudding… yep, your pudding. Like that?

My new boyfriend Achmed works at the hospital, and for the all-time low price of once/weekly head he lets me drip a drop or three of rat poisoning in your breakfast every morning before the real security comes in. How do you feel about that? Are you throwing up because of regret, or because I’ve taken you to within an inch of your life?

By the way, your job is gone and your house is in foreclosure because the bank found out there’s no house there and the insurance won’t pay for it to be rebuilt because of the fraud you tried to commit by burning it down yourself. (Gosh, wonder who might have told Pemco Insurance that you torched it on purpose to get money out of it?)

Say the word and the misery ends, and you can say either word. Say yes and we can get back to our life together, the one where you tell me you love me and I call you daddy while you hit me from the back and pull my hair. Or say no and I’ll put that final dose in your applesauce tomorrow, and it will all be over. Totally your call “Kevin”.

Ha ha ha, not serious. This is just an analogy or simile or something. I’m not really trying to mess any guy up it’s just a story. His real name is Chris and he’s not at any hospital in Orange County right now. LOL it was just a joke. I’ll prolly delete this post cuz it was all a joke.

Call me tho, we can still be cool if you’re not mad. Even either way we can fix it. Think how kewl the makeup sex can be honey. I miss you and I love you and we’ll be together forever till death do us part. You just tell me when you wanna die and I’ll be there for you until then, even if it’s tomorrow. Do the right thing honey. I love you so much you just can’t understand it and I know you love me too. Call me, I miss you.

Here’s a joke for you. What’s the difference between the New York Times and your house burning down while you and your kids stand on the curb wondering what happened? One keeps homeless people warm and the other is a newspaper! Yep, congrats bastard, you’re homeless.

I hope you like your beater car because it’s gonna have a matt at the door that says “Home Sweet Home” today, nutsucker. Yep, as if by magic you’re out of a life, just like I’m out of the life you let me think we could have together. Maybe you didn’t say it, but burying your face in my tuna steak comes with more than just a suggestion, it’s an aperture of commitment and you knew that when you said you loved me. You said it and I heard it and you know it. You said, “Oh God I love this”. We both know what that meant. You loved ME, just like Britney would have wanted.

And don’t be all like I’m crazy or something. Left Eye burnt down her boyfriend’s house and she’s doing great today. Fire is just a representation of the heat of our love. I hate you. I hate you and I want to see you in prison, and you will be very soon if the district attorney takes my testimony seriously, which he will because I gave him the same thing I gave you and that’s fair because all is fair in love, war and the war or love, if you catch my drift.

Catch my drift, Kevin, I’m not pussyfooting around… I will let you pussyfoot me if you call, but you have to do it before Tuesday morning. That’s when I’m meeting with the attorneys about the whole statutory rape thing. It’s not illegal if we get married, just think about that.

Call me honey. You have my number, I painted it on your house, all over your car, and I mailed it to your office a bunch of times. You have my contact info so let’s just get past all this ugliness. Seriously baby, let’s start our life together today.

Okay honey, I’ll play your cat and mouse game. You be Tom and I’ll be Jerry, that’s a cartoon from your era, right? You’re playing hard to get and I love it I guess. You already put your cheese in my trap but I’ll play along. Come back to me today and I won’t get all crazy about it. It’s no problem if we’re going about it your way, but I have to say I’ll burn your house down tonight while you’re sleeping in it if you don’t get back with me (ha ha, LOL).

Seriously honey, we were meant to be together so just get back to me and let’s make our life together happen. You can be my agent and I can be your only client and we can get famous together. I miss you baby. Call me or text me. You have the number and I’ll leave my window unlocked for you. Love you baby.

Hey Kevin, if that really is your name, which it is, Kevin Waterston who lives in Seal Beach, California with his stupid damn wife Meagan Waterston (maiden name Venice, who is a total bitch even if I don’t know her stupid slut ass). I’ve got some bad news for you, jerk stick. Care to guess where the graffiti on the side of your house came from? Yep, that was your precious little vagimuffin you so gleefully gobbled, and you can bet your sweet, sour, pudgy ass it’s just the first in a long, long string of the same.

If you don’t like seeing KEVIN WHROE painted on the side of your house you should have not been a whore or at least not been with someone as dyslexic as me. Britney is empowered and probably dyslexic too. She stabs the paparazzi with her umbrella as sure as she lets the paparazzi stab her all up in that split (they’re all she knows, so they’re the guys she dates, don’t be stupid about it.)

I’m just saying that, if you didn’t already understand it, now you do. I know where you live and I am not afraid to come to your house while you’re sleeping and do whatever things come to my mind. My new boyfriend Jiham helps me too, but don’t think we’re totally together or anything, we’re not, we’re just friends, I haven’t slept with him or anything (we did other things but they don’t count you know.)

Hey Kevin, ever wonder why the Crips are giving you a hard time, maybe roughing up your stupid kids when they’re waiting for the bus? Maybe it’s because of that letter you sent to them. Ever wonder why the Bloods stabbed your dumb wife? Maybe it’s because you sent them a letter you sent them telling them how much you watch them selling drugs in front of your house.

I’m not saying I sent letters to rival gangs in your neighborhood saying that you hate them or anything, but I might say that even the Latin Kings might have a bone to pick with (from?) you (r dead, rotting body).

Have you heard burnouts in your alley all night and seen your garbage can stolen repeatedly? Wow, that’s weird, it’s like you don’t get what’s going on. It’s like you can’t see destiny when my honeyspot stares you in the tongue, which it has with unbelievable delight (one time only, and never again, but maybe call me and we can talk about it, You know you have the number so just call me honey.)

If bad things happen to your wife or kids, it’s no big deal baby. You and me can still be together whatever happens to them. You know I’ll still accept you as my one and true only love. God I love you and I miss you and I just want to hold you again in my arms tonight. I won’t put up a fight daddy, I promise, but you have to let me in for me to let you in. I’m not flaring up this week so it will be safe, I promise, just come back to me and I’ll let you have me entirely.

Hey Kevin, want to hear a funny story? Your mom called the other day, she was all torn up because you died. Yep, you were carjacked in South Central picking up an underage prostitute. Funny isn’t it? The story had me in stitches.

Might have read about your demise in the Los Angeles Times obituaries, but oh wait, you couldn’t because you were in Puerto Vallarta with your stupid whore wife and your four stupid whore wife’s kids who are also your damn kids. I knew you were incommunicado because I’ve been watching you. My new boyfriend Jason is an amateur private investigator, and he tracked your dumb ass down to the minute. Your mom died inside when she read your suicide note.

Oh yeah, you left a suicide note you drippy dickhead. Oh, drippy? Yes, I just got the results back. I’m not pregnant, but I am seeping from the seams, and I know it isn’t any of the other guys I’ve been with since we did it. All of them told me they were tested and clean, so it was obviously you, dummy. Jason, Dave, Tom, Howard, Ishmael, Rowan, Egy and Brennan were all way clean, and half of them didn’t even hit me in the front, so it was you and we both know it. I hope your stupid wife goes blind from your clap.

Call me when you get back, we need to talk and hang out if we can. I miss you honey. We can still be good for both of us.

Okay Kevin, I’ve tried to be civil about it but you haven’t got the message yet. Did you get the letter I sent? Oh you didn’t? That’s because I didn’t send it to you, I sent it to your stupid whore of a wife at the shelter where she volunteers. Yep, that’s where she got the letter from the CDC (Center for Disease Control, dumb ass) that says you have AIDS and it’s full blown. Any trouble at home last week? Maybe that’s why.

It’s not too late to fix things with me. We had a really nice night together, just as Britney said we would, so let’s build on that. Let that stupid harlot die in the ditch (I can help with that) and make a life together. I know you said you’re a record producer and I know you aren’t but you could be. Let’s get famous together.

Call me baby. Call me, and I’ll hear from you. You can NOT call me if you want, but either way you’re going to hear form me, OK?

Not saying I’m going to burn it down while you’re sleeping or anything, just saying you should sleep with two eyes open, and maybe not with your damn wife who you said you were broken up with but I know you aren’t. Seriously man, if you’re reading this, do the right thing and pick up the phone and give your best baby a call. I’m still here for you. I can love you if you let me. You already had that unbelievable night with me where we smoked of the glass pipe. You think that was something strange? It wasn’t. That night was pure you + me = sexual passion.

I can be your baby girl. Let’s just do this. Leave your damn wife and let’s get real with our future

So a few weeks back I was with this guy I met at the gas station. I was buying my phone card to pay for my cell phone and I was short and he paid for it because I’m short, but I was short to pay for my card. He was so nice and he spotted me the two bucks I was missing to buy it.

He was old and not too gross or anything. He’s like 40 something (he said he was 35 but I later found out that isn’t true) and he said he was a record producer. I sing so it worked out good but I should have figured it out when I got in his 1996 Mazda 626 that something was wrong. Record producers drive Escalades, right? They so do, not old busted Japacrap, am I right?

Anyways I let him snack on my biscuit and I totaled mowed on him too but he never gave me his phone number or anything and he tried to disappear. Nice try Kevin “Moe Townsend” Waterston from Seal Beach, I know who you really are you bastard. You don’t let me into your life because I know you’re married, so you want to dance with this devil, let’s play baby, I got anger on tap for you byotch!

Since my new guy friend fingerd out where he lives I went to his house and banged on his windows, but then somebody turned lights on and I went next door and hid. The damn 5-0 came out in like a minute so I had to hide in the neighbors bushes in the backyard for like three hours until I thought they were gone. Made out like nothing, so F U Kevin, I’m watching you and your damn wife and kids. I swear to God you’re going down, so let us hope nothing bad happens to your car or house or anything, you know?