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Just when you thought it had been waaay too long since I’d written a letter to an ass hat parent, something happened that told me it’s time. And oh, it’s time.

Let me set the scene:

10:42 p.m. Friday night: Family, having finished decorating the tree, is sitting on the couch in front of said tree listening to Christmas music; Mother and Father are enjoying a glass of wine with their feet up, cats are asleep in front of the fire, everyone is happily involved with their individual screened devices.

10:43 p.m.: Doorbell rings repeatedly. Mother and Father look at each other, alarmed at the late hour; younger daughter yelps in fright. Father jumps up.

10:43:05: Loud explosion from front porch. Mother and Father rush to look out window that frames front door to see liquid running down it and 2-liter bottle of Diet Coke sitting in pot of spruce tips that Mother had painstakingly arranged the week before.

10:43:20: Car revs engine and peels off from curb in front of family home.

10:43:59: Father hands Mother a baseball bat and runs out the door. Mother thinks baseball is a bad idea. Father gets in car and chases getaway car. Children worried that Father may not return. Mother wonders if Father’s life insurance policy is still good.

10:47: Father returns with the news that getaway car got away.

10:48: Father calls police.

10:53: Police arrive, discover a tube of Mentos candy in bottle of Diet Coke. Tell Father they will patrol neighborhood.

11 p.m.: Family googles “Mentos in Diet Coke.” Cool. Family returns to positions on couch, resume screen staring. Mother pours more wine.

11:29: Doorbell rings rings rings. Father shouts inappropriate words and jumps up. Younger daughter looks frightened, not so much as a result of the doorbell as by Father’s choice of vocabulary. Mother chugs her wine and follows Father to door. Children cower in family room.

11:29:08: Family discovers another bottle of Diet Coke on porch, yet this one has not exploded. Father, not wanting to grab it and lose an eye, calls police. Again.

11:33: Police arrive. Again. Officer takes bottle of unexploded Diet Coke. It’s proving to be a long night patrolling the sticks and he’s gonna need the caffeine.

11:35: Father has brilliant idea. Father sets up video camera on bar stool. Father prints signs with large font that read, “COPS WERE CALLED” and “YOU ARE ON CAMERA.” Suck it baseball bat, Father’s got game.

Next Scene:

Saturday night, 10:00 p.m.: Father resets video camera up on stool.

11:32: Father, Mother and younger daughter in basement heavily involved in a “Cheaper By The Dozen” marathon (older daughter not present. Mother ventures upstairs to refill wine glass (which is necessary when you are watching a marathon of Cheaper By The Dozen).

11:32:12: Doorbell rings rings rings.

11:32:13: Mother yells yells yells for Father.

11:32:15: Father takes all 18 stairs up from basement in three leaps. Runs to front door. Mother hides in laundry room. Younger daughter hides on basement stairs.

11:32:17: Father does not see anything on porch but sees that video camera is still rolling. Father, Mother and younger daughter scream with delight.

11:33: Father calls police using the number he now has on speed dial. Officer bummed there’s not another 2-liter of Diet Coke, but comes over to sit by driveway for a bit anyway.

11:35: Father rewinds tape. Family thrilled to discover filmed footage of black-hoodied kid creeping onto porch, ringing doorbell and bolting away. Family severely disappointed they do not recognize the vandal. Mother takes screenshots and quickly blasts it out on Facebook to neighbors. Father’s not the only one who’s got game.

11:42: Father replaces intimidating signs on window, younger daughter places cardboard cutout of Peeta Mellark by window for further intimidation. He’s killed teenagers before.

11:58: Mother refills wine glass, looks at the time, wonders what the hell the parents of the little shit are doing, and begins composing the following letter.


Dear ass hat parents of the little shit who coke bombed my front porch,
 
We were all stupid teenagers once. Most of us did things that in hindsight might have been a little foolish and idiotic.
 
However, by the time you are the parents of teenagers of your own, you do not get a pass on being foolish and idiotic, and as such do not get excused from having ass clown kids who are set free late on weekend nights to go all Bill Nye on neighbors’s front porches and wreck their nice things. 

Here’s a question you might ask yourselves at, oh I don’t know, 11:30 p.m. on a Friday night: Do I know where my child is? In this day and age of cell phones, tracking apps, and oh yeah, built in trust and communication from years of being an involved parent, the answer should never be “NO.” When your bonewad kid was setting off a 2-liter explosion of Diet Coke all over my front porch – twice (the fact that the second bottle never exploded does not excuse the motivation behind the attempt; it is just more likely a reflection of his low aptitude for science) – where exactly did you think he was? Were you just happy that he was out of the house and out of your hair? 
 
Listen, I know that sometimes kids can be jerks despite their parents’s best intentions. But here’s the deal: Don’t just have ‘best intentions’. Parenting rule 101 — Make damn sure you follow through with your intentions. And if you do, by the time they’re teenagers it’s a good bet they’ll be doing something a lot less destructive at 11:32 p.m. on a Friday night. Teach your kid to be respectful of other people and property, and not just by your words. It’s not all that difficult of a concept. Don’t be an ass hat — to your kid or to other people, and chances are damn good that he won’t be one either. 
 
And to you, the little shit in the black hoodie and saggy baggy ripped jeans: I’m watching you. Our camera is still running. And next time, I’m making you chug that bottle of Diet Coke and will watch happily as it explodes out your nostrils. 
 
Sincerely,
Your pissed off neighbor. 


Like the “Asshat Letters?” There’s more! Because as long as there’s asshat parents, I’ll keep writing letters.

The second letter

21 Comments

  1. The Dose of Reality on December 2, 2013 at 1:56 pm

    Oh dear God in heaven, I am CRYING with laughter at this letter…mind if I steal it as a template for all future asshattery I encounter? The lack of aptitude in science killed me. The fact that this happened to you is not at all funny, but your response is comic genius.-Ashley

    • Michelle on December 2, 2013 at 2:01 pm

      I wish I didn’t have to write these letters, but when I see an ass clown (or the progeny of one) I cannot help myself. Glad it gave you pleasure…I have to admit, when we saw that we captured him creeping onto our porch we, too, were mighty pleased and found more than a little comedy in our signs and menacing cardboard cutout. 🙂

  2. eviljoyspeaks on December 2, 2013 at 3:18 pm

    I wish we were neighbors – we could have strung invisible thread aka fishing line – tripped that little sucker up and caught him or her red handed!!!!

    • Michelle on December 3, 2013 at 1:34 am

      Would have been epic! Strung him up by his ankles!! Used him as a piñata!

  3. Michelle Liew on December 2, 2013 at 4:12 pm

    I think some people simply need re-parenting themselves. Sight! And the letters are a creative idea to get the needing spank across too!

    • Michelle on December 3, 2013 at 1:35 am

      Good point. Sometimes questionable parenting is really just a vicious cycle. Sad.

  4. Bev Draughon on December 2, 2013 at 5:42 pm

    Oh Michelle…your front porch pictures were so beautiful….I am hoping you don’t have to redo everything….I am sorry you had to experience such nonsense…but…with that being said….thanks for the good chuckle….you do have a great way of making everything come to life…..AND I HOPE TO HELL YOU CATCH THE LITTLE S&*%T……………….Bev

    • Michelle on December 3, 2013 at 1:37 am

      Happily I can tell you that with minimal work the pot is looking back to its original self! But it still pissed me off. Glad I could give you a laugh! When crappy things happen sometimes that’s the only way – the best way – to handle it!! 🙂

  5. Linda Roy on December 2, 2013 at 6:36 pm

    That was excellent! I love your letters. I’m actually sitting here drinking a diet Coke while reading this and aside from the obvious total asshatery displayed by this little DB in bombing your porch – what a waste of perfectly good Coke. I hope they catch the little sh*t.

    • Michelle on December 3, 2013 at 1:38 am

      Evil Joy said that on Facebook the other night! — What a waste of a good bottle of Diet Coke. Ha! So true.

  6. The Shitastrophy on December 2, 2013 at 7:37 pm

    Who does that shit?! I would be on fire – sorry some douche is ruining your home and evening. I would totally want to find out who it was and that kid better be prepared to spend the weekend cleaning, and redoing my porch properly. And possibly other people’s in the neighborhood too. Nice letter BTW. (The Shitastrophy – bc Google has suspended me, fuckers.)

    • Michelle on December 3, 2013 at 1:41 am

      Thank you! The porch thankfully only sustained minimal damage (just a sticky window and tilted spruce tips) but it still pissed me off big time. Who does that shit? Well, since now I’d like to go leave a flaming sack of dog poo on his porch, I guess I do. ha.

  7. Teri Biebel on December 3, 2013 at 12:44 pm

    Thank God you didn’t recognize me. Er…..I mean……this is GREAT!!

  8. elli23553 on December 3, 2013 at 1:19 pm

    Epic! I hope you catch that little &%*$^#!

  9. Kate Hall on December 3, 2013 at 1:55 pm

    Wow, that totally SUCKS! Three times! That’s got to be a sticky, freaking mess.

  10. Jenn @ Something Clever 2.0 on December 3, 2013 at 2:58 pm

    And why the same house over and over? Are they hitting other houses, or just yours?

  11. Cary Vaughn on December 3, 2013 at 4:10 pm

    I’m liking this letter to ass hat parents. I must read the others and look forward to reading more! SO hilarious.

  12. Amy Flory on December 6, 2013 at 7:58 pm

    Someone has the hots for one of your girls. It’s really your fault for raising such delightful daughters.

  13. […] there’s asshat parents, I’ll keep writing letters. The second letter The third letter Letter to the asshat parents of the little sh*t who coke-bombed my front porch Letter to asshat parents who send their sick kids to school Letter to the asshat parents who change […]

  14. […] Because as long as there’s asshat parents, I’ll keep writing letters. The third letter Letter to the asshat parents of the little sh*t who coke-bombed my front porch Letter to asshat parents who send their sick kids to school Letter to the asshat parents who change […]

  15. […] more! Because as long as there’s asshat parents, I’ll keep writing letters. Letter to the asshat parents of the little sh*t who coke-bombed my front porch Letter to asshat parents who send their sick kids to school Letter to the asshat parents who change […]

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