An apology to my brother-in-law
You know what, Keith, I’m not apologizing. I told my wife I would, but the more I thought about it, I’m not doing it, and here are a few reasons why:
1) This goes back a few years, but how in the hell did she not know that the hand, foot and mouth virus was contagious? I assume the doctor told her it was when she took your mongoloid kids in for treatment. I have to wonder why she then stopped off at my house after the doctor’s visit.
Have you ever had hand, foot and mouth, Keith? Well I have. It seems adults can get it, and as much as I enjoyed having sores magically appear on my palms, feet and lips like I was a skid row whore, my life would have been just fine without that little experience.
2) How can I forget the time she accidentally hit the gas instead of the brake and rammed my car in your parents’ driveway? I understand coming to a stop is complicated when you have an IQ of 75, but she has done this to both my car and your dad’s car.
3) There was also the time she squirted lighter fluid into my gas grill while I was cooking. That actually pissed my wife off more than me, and since I was really drunk at the time, I thought it was pretty funny.
I could probably go on for a few more pages, but let’s just cut to the incident last Saturday. You and I were both busy staining your parents’ deck and she was tasked with picking up lunch.
We agreed on subs, and since I knew she was too dumb to use the sandwich computer at Wawa, I suggested Sam’s. I also carefully wrote down what I wanted and told her to just hand the piece of paper to the cashier with the $10 bill I gave her.
There literally should have been no way for your imbecile wife to fuck up this simple task, but she still somehow pulled it off. And why in Christ’s name did she go to Hard Times and buy me a Frito pie instead of my sandwich? In between me calling her a goddamned retard, and you getting all huffy, I never got an answer to that question.