Dear Mr Player,
Do you not have a life?
Why are you making every girls life miserable?
Why do you date them, when you KNOW you're going to reject them?
Do you EVEN KNOW the name of the last girl you kissed?
Did you have a shaky emotional past that I should know of? Did you get rejected by someone and then want to let other people know how rejection feels?
Whatever reason you're doing this, it's disgusting to see you every single day, with a different girl by your side.
I wonder why you're so popular when 90% of people in our school have been used by you.
Just to be clear, I'm in the 10% of people. I don't want to really toot my own horn, but TOOT IT I WILL, since I'm proud to say, that I'm too smart to be cheated with by someone like you.
Maybe in another lifetime Mr. Player, but NOT today, not tomorrow.
Not ever.
With extra "Love",
Not a fan (The girl part of that small 10%)
--...--....-.....-....--....-----.....-...--......-..
Today, Felicty wasn't here with me to deliver the second letter, but that was fine by me. I couldn't stop myself from smiling as i walked up to his locker after school. All the things that i had always wanted to say, and to ask Mr.Jacob Williams, were all going to be written in the letters i would hand deliver to him.
I dialed in his combonation, and it clicked open. His locker was as neat as yesterday, and the letter that i had placed in his locker yesterday, was gone.
YES! He took the letter! I thought And he read it!
"Perfect" I mumbled to myself as i slipped Letter number 2 in.
This was going to be the highlight of my highschool years.
Sending hate mail to the player.
I could even imagine telling my own kids the story of it.
I shut his locker with a slam.
YOU ARE READING
Dear Mr.Player
Short StoryIn which a girl hates the schools player, so she decides to write hate letters to him, surprised when he writes back.
