An Open Letter to the Douchebag at the bar in my town this afternoon,

[my apologies for the uninspired and somewhat tired 'open letter' format, but my spirits were pretty low after the incident and i wasn't feeling original.]

Dear Former Fratboy Chunkhead,

I had been having a really nice day before I was subjected to your pathetic attempt to score points with your drinking buddies (I'm guessing "Hammer", "Smitty", & "Boner") while watching the Seahawks vs. Panthers game this afternoon. By the looks of your bloated, glassy visage, you were too.

What I'm curious about is why you chose to wait until we were exiting the bar -- actually outside the doorstep -- to begin ridiculing us for having a Scrabble board in our 'beach tote'. Is it because your spelling skills are so lacking? Are you intimidated by 2 hip, relatively attractive men together in a scummy sports bar carrying pastimes of the intellectual sort? Maybe it was just the fact that your stumpy dick was chafed from the sporty khaki shorts you were wearing. Was your baseball cap (backwards, of course) too tight, causing you discomfort?

I know we live in a small, lame, bland, boring, cracker, uninspired town at the beach, but I don't think that gives you the right (or the reason) to shout loud enough for every bar patron (including those outside smoking) that the "Scrabble boys aren't here for the GAME?! HAHAHAHAHAH..."

I promise you Fatty, that the next time I see you, if you have the balls (borrow them from your guy friend) to throw shit my way, I will personally find glee in smashing in your top teeth with an iron fist.

Wait a minute, I think I understand your insecurity and resultant taunt. Scrabble is a game of words.. Yes, those things that are strung together in books. (Kind of like what you see under the pictures in Maxim but the ones we tend to employ are polysyllabic. That means "longer".)

Eat it.