Dear stupid cunt from Texas,

Will you get a fucking grip on yourself and stop harassing me after almost ten fucking years?

What will it take to shut you up? Why don’t you have anything better to do? Do you read my blog when you’re feeling bad about your life? I understand those feelings, but not the depths of your malice toward a stranger.

HOW CAN YOU BRING UP THE LOSS OF MY SON??? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?

Your other comments about what a piece of garbage I am, how much you hate middle-aged married white woman, all that crap is fine. Even though I’m actually an elderly jew, close enough.

But my son is off limits. My grief is too. I want you to own up to triggering my god damn fucking PTSD. I’m talking to you, Ariella C. Villa or Monique L. Roberts of Texas.

Both of you have tormented me enough. Whichever one of you fucking lunatics is responsible for this latest, just be the big Beyonce-loving piece of shit you are and admit it.

Thanks, you fat dumbass coward.

Love, Sister Wolf.

But on July 11, I tweeted this:

Less than 24 hours later, bam, I received this comment on goddamit.com, waiting to be moderated:

What?  My dead son?  The comment was sent from Denton County, Texas. Guess who lives in Denton County?

What is wrong with people? Is it just Trophy Club or Denton County? Do people understand the concept of losing a child? Hello? Earth to Denton County?

I don’t know what’s worse, the cowardice or the deranged free-floating hatred?

Anyway, get a grip, Jane, Mom or Aunt Karen. This is some fucked up shit.

Authors : gretchen bell aka dolly python , and Monique.   2010

A bare   stage. Two friends at computers. A hint of spittle at the corner of each mouth. They speak the words in unison as they type.

AND,   I mailed you a complimentary necklace and a can of Raid for your vagina!

It is a proven fact you have sand in your vagina you have confirmed it over and over and over again.   (hahahahaha)

Gretchen wants to know if you want Uncle Jerry to unclog your vagina with his pencil dick.

P.S. “Dolly” says that she imagine you in a “Wild At Heart” moment, reapplying your lipstick over and over with sweat, tears, and black hair dye running down your face. And a very blown out vagina clumped up with gorilla glue and cat litter.

You sure don’t have a problem with bitches being psychotically obsessed with you as long as their crawling up in your sandy vaginA now do you?   What an ass you are.

P.S. Gretchen is going to dress up as you for Halloween! She’s going as a sandy vagina. I’m going to be Uncle Jerry and I’m gonna help clean you up.

the women continue to type as the curtain falls, and a lonely trumpet can be heard in the distance, playing “The Yellow Rose of Texas.”