Dear Fucker who stole my wallet

Dear fucker who stole my wallet,
Congratulations. You are now the proud owner of all of my shit. Credit cards, debit cards, cash, pictures, drivers license, IDs, my goddamn social security card, insurance cards, and even my blockbuster card. While I was having a pleasant 55 degree January day (first since 1906, apparently) on the beach in Chicago, you were breaking into Js car and snatching my handmade, pressed leather, limited addition wallet and for some reason, Js phone. Who steals a cell phone... I mean seriously.

I hope you enjoyed your shopping spree at every gas station within walking distance of the beach where I was having a chicken salad sandwich. Good thing I withdrew 80 bucks from an ATM before we went to the beach, in case you needed quicker access to my cash. Sorry the 80 bucks wasn't enough, and you had to make all those time consuming Visa purchases for 53 bucks at 7-eleven. This begs the question, how does anyone spend 53 bucks at a 7-eleven? Did you buy the whole store out of stock? Did you have a craving for 40 air sealed day old bologna sandwiches? Did you buy 50 big gulps? I hope you had petty thief backup, because thats a lot of brain freeze... assuming you have the necessary equipment.

Thanks to you, I spent all day driving (without my license) to the DMV (to get a new license) and to the bank (to figure out exactly how much of my money you spent before I canceled my cards) and hoping I didn't run out of gas (because I officially have no money). In the rain. Because when it rains, it pours.

I hope you used some of my money to buy an umbrella. Because aside from how hard its been raining, I had some pretty vivid dreams about being tall enough to pee on your head, and I believe in the power of wishes. I woke and and wished pretty hard for that one to come true.

Honestly, enjoy it. I hope the fun you had was matched equally by the amount of frustration and helplessness I felt all day yesterday and today. I hope before you ditched my wallet in some gutter or dumpster, you took a good long look at the pressed leather artwork on the back and front. It's a Valcom limited addition. Can you say "good taste"? No of course you can't. Did you happen to come across some photos when you were sifting around in my wallet? Those were baby pictures of my horse, pictures I don't have copies of. More valuable then the cash, cards, wallet, IDs, and even the blockbuster card.

I'm not an "ill wisher" by nature, but I would like it very much if you would fall on a sharpened stick. I hope you get a splinter the size of a banana. I hope you buy a bad hot dog with my money and get food poisoning and barf for a week, and rock and rock in a public bathroom sobbing "I shouldn't have stolen that nice girls wallet, she had such impeccably good taste in pressed leather goods and I know nothing of her pain!"

I believe whole-heartedly in karma. So don't look up, because that's not rain you're feeling streaming down your forehead. Thats pee, coming from the giant version of myself that I concocted to exact my satisfying yet imaginary revenge.

I get the wallet theft thing. But a phone? Thats just weird. Maybe you needed to call 7-eleven to see how late they were open. Because YOU'RE A FUCKING INVALID.