An Open Letter to Two Sons of Bitches

Dear Oatmeal,

What do you think you're doing? Stick to what you know, don't go getting all cocky and suddenly decide to jump out of your bowl of hot water and force yourself into my cookie. You don't belong there. You belong sitting lowly and ashamed in your little bowl of water, if you're lucky you might even have some cinnamon on top of you but that's all. I know you've been saying for years that that bastard Chocolate doesn't deserve to be the cookie guy but you know what? He does. You don't. You are dry and tasteless and he is vibrant and delicious. Back off. And don't you talk to me about prejudice. We all know that there hasn't been equal rights in the cookie toppings since at least 54'. You suck.

Dear the letter Y,

What's your deal? How long have you been keeping this fucking title of "sometimes"? And actually, if I think about there aren't even that many words that you're the only vowel. The only one I can think of is fry and even you know that that's a stupid word. A hates you y'know? He thinks you're lazy. Even your wife U knows that you're sleeping around with G. She's gonna leave you for E any day now. At least he's ballsy enough to stick around. He's an all-times vowel. You still owe I money and he knows you're not gonna pay it back. He's gonna send his lackeys L and M after you if you don't give him his money by Friday. Y'know O? Your best friend? He thinks you're a huge tool. I don't know if you've checked recently but Z is listed as his top friend on Facebook. Not you. Do us all a favor and go become a consonant. Oh wait... They all hate you there too. You could try joining those dicks, the numbers.