‘Dear bastards, thank you for buying our child a toy drum kit’

DEAR Auntie Emily and Uncle Bill,

Thank you so much for the toy drum kit you got Jesse for Christmas. He hasn’t stopped playing with it. No, seriously. He. Will. Not. Stop. And if we try to take it away from him he screams like an ABSOLUTE FUCKING MANIAC.

It’s just fantastic.

We wondered if you are trying to encourage Jesse’s musical side? We’ll all be so proud when he drops out of university to become a drummer in a death metal band, gets addicted to crystal meth and marries a Norwegian Goth. You are so sweet and considerate.

Of course, we’ll probably never know because we’ll both be dead from asphyxiation from holding pillows over our own heads. Don’t feel sad for us. We’ll have gone to a much, much better place. It’s called Total Oblivion.

We look forward to repaying your generosity at Uncle Bill’s 60th. We’ll bring dessert. Is he still allergic to peanuts?

Thanks again for the present and have a happy and peaceful new year, you pair of utter dickbags.

Sarah and Stewart