Dear Frank’s Girlfriend:
I’m sorry, I don’t know your name. Which seems strange, given that I know so much about you now. I would liked to have gotten your name, but you seemed to be otherwise occupied and overly concered about Frank. Additionally, it was about 4 in the morning when you were having this argument underneath my bedroom window, and while I woke up and listened (well, was forced to listen really), I just didn’t see my way clear to interrupting into your, well, your spate of verbal diarrhea about Frank, so that I could ask your name. I’m sorry about that.
As I discovered last night (and my neighbours, and my neighbour’s neighbour’s, and likely some people on the next block), the course of true love never did run smooth – for anyone really, but especially you and Frank. Now, I understand (well, not really) that it must be aggravating when Frank insists in putting his penis into vagina’s that don’t belong to you (no I’m not going to use the more colourful words you used – they would likely startle people, I know they certainly startled me!) I can imagine that this situation would be, well distressing. I can imagine that this situation might make someone (like you, for example) use certain very bad words as nouns, verbs, adjectives and prepositional forms. I must say, I was very impressed that you thought to add an ‘-y’ ending to make the word an adverb. Very clever that.
In fact, while what I heard of your vocabulary was limited (and I’m fairly certain I heard everything you were saying), you seem like a clever enough lady.
So, I have to ask, four times? You have taken this man back four times? Four? Really?
And yet, judging by your tetchiness last night, and your significant vocal skill to make this tetchiness known, I am surprised. Oh, not that he seems to have put his genitalia yet another place it doesn’t belong – but I must say, I am surprised that you were surprised. In fact, I am bewildered. Oh, I know it was late. (There’s that pesky 4 am thing again. . .) But surely you saw this coming?
Dear Frank’s Girlfriend – might I make a humble suggestion? Using a few words that I noticed you didn’t use last night, even though they seem strangely appropriate?
Kick his sorry, loser keister to the curb.
Warm regards and best of luck,
(You might know me more accurately as the bedroom window that lit up. The house with the dogs barking. Yes, that one.)