Little_Bitch

What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, kitty cat? I'll have you know I graduated top of my macaroni and cheese class, and I've installed numerous secret cameras in my daughter's room, and I have over 300 confirmed miscarriages. I am trained in ice cream and shopping warfare and I'm the top mom in the entire neighborhood. You are nothing to me but just another online teenager. I will wipe your social life the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before in this school, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to my daughter over the Internet? Think again, baby. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of perverts across honeydaddies.com and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the hard lemonade, maggot. The hard lemonade that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your Yale acceptance. You're fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can frame you in over seven hundred ways, and that's just with my home computer. Not only am I extensively trained in mirror combat, but I have access to an entire arsenal of antidepressants and I will use it to its full extent to keep your miserable ass off the face of college, you poor baby. If only you could have known what unholy retribution leaving home was about to bring down upon you, maybe you wouldn't have preceded with it. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, kitty cat. I will install a fire-whatever on your computer and you will drown in it. STAY AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER, kiddo.