Today is not a good day to mess with me. I haven't had my coffee yet. I have too much work, too little time and that is real fire coming from my nostrils.
I know that I am not the only one in the neighborhood to receive your special attention but that doesn't mean that I feel any less irritation with your need to come witness. I haven't any interest, need or desire to hear about your love for the lord.
There is no saving my soul. Just accept that it is beyond help and repair and that if you insist on continuing I will set up an altar on your porch and slaughter an ox, a chicken, a duck, two goats and a lamb. It will be done all in the name of Satan and for good measure I will see that Ozzy Osbourne performs live, except we won't use the "I am giving a way a colonoscopy" man.
No ma'am I will ensure that I will find the guy that used to bite the heads off of bats.
The whole freaking neighborhood is ready to take up a collection to help you and your freaky-deaky brood move. Believe me, they won't lose a moment of sleep over the sacrifice and the concert.
Hell, the Johnsons and the Keepstexiovichs have already asked if they can work as roadies and I have firm commitments from the Marmosets, Pavlovichs and Craptonks to work security.
Sadly you are so delusional that I don't think you'll recognize this note to be a poorly written joke. You won't think of it as satire and will respond by writing another one of those 12 page single spaced, double sided letters that make Jack and Jill look like Pulitzer Prize writing.
So I might as well end this and grab my cup of Joe. Sometimes Monday's suck.