Hey Spacejerk,
First, a bomb is not a letter.
Second, I rent a P.O. box, which means the mail comes to a building that is not my house, and then my Dad pays some special service to go through all the mail in case of poison, drugs, or bombs.
Third, you suck. He blamed me. If I bought a bomb, I'd definitely buy it from someone more competent than you. And I wouldn't wire it up and address it to myself! How is it my Dad is the world's smartest scientist and he does not understand how humans work? Like, at all? Sometimes talking to him is just as frustrating as talking to you.
Try again, dummy. This time, use your words.
-Dib
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Hey Spacejerk
FanfictionHey Spacejerk. Good job burning down my house. Were you hoping I'd have to move? Congratulations. But that's not going to stop me from spending my every living breathing second monitoring you. And sending you mail through a system you're too dumb to...
