Dear Hillbilly Who Stole My Flip-Flops on The North Mills River On Saturday,
You sir are a toothless, formerly shoeless, piece of shit. What kind of person steals used flip-flops? Did you show up to the river with the plan of stealing shoes? Was it a crime of opportunity, were you walking by my truck sans shoes and thought to yourself, “Here’s my big break,”? This whole experience has really left me with more questions than answers, and I fear my questions may never be answered. I used to think that stealing the shoes off a homeless guy was a funny thing to do on my way back from the bar, a victimless crime really. No more, I have now felt the shame of walking into a gas station to purchase an adult beverage after an honest days guiding, and being denied service due to a conspicuous lack of foot cover (by the way Mr. Gas Station Attendant, they are reserving a special place in hell for you sir..I told you someone stole my shoes and you still kicked me out). I have you to blame for this and I will never forgive you no matter how much time passes or how many pairs of flip-flops I own. You may think you have gotten away with it, but that’s where you are wrong. You stole the wrong dude’s flip-flops my friend. I plan on inspecting every pair of flip-flops in Western North Carolina until I find you. I will not rest until justice has been served. In this case, justice will be me finding you and pummeling you into vegetative state with the very same flip-flops you so cunningly stole. Until that day comes (which it will) sleep with one eye open and watch your back because in the land of the blind the man with one eye is king, but in the land of the flip-flopped the man with the steel toe boots is king and I plan on forcibly inserting mine right up your ass, hillbilly.
[Update: I just found my flip-flops in the back of the truck. My apologies to all hillbillies and other shoeless folk. I will still not be stealing shoes from the homeless any more, just for the record.]