Justin - and his parents - learned that sometimes you have to go to the extreme to get revenge.
Dear Mom and Dad,
So far in 2012, two people from NEPA have earned national attention. One was a local weatherman featured on “Jimmy Kimmel Live!” and Perez Hilton’s blog for having a manic meltdown during a forecast. The other was a woman terminated from her job for wearing a prosthetic penis to work while contemplating gender-reassignment surgery. Keep that in mind when you read this apology, as the horror their mothers and fathers are faced with has to be worse! So, here it goes: I’m sorry for the time I faked my death.
When my roommate moved out while I was in the shower to get back at me for not participating in a three way, I was left horny with revenge. Naturally, my instinct of retaliation was to prank phone call the son of a bitch.
“Tell him you’re some girl he met and f--k with him,” I forced a girl I knew a few weeks after the incident.
“Really?” my old roommate questioned when she called him. “Where did we meet?”
Showing her roots of being from Pennsylvania, she answered “We met at Wal-Mart.”
“Ha! I’m Jewish. We don’t shop at Wal-Mart.” He knew I was behind this.
I realized Plan B had to be more extreme. If I wanted my old roommate to really regret his actions, I had to make him think I died. Everyone misses you when you’re dead.
“No way!” my sister screamed when I presented the idea of her calling him to proclaim I passed away. “You have to be bipolar!”
After ceaseless instigation, my sister caved in. I wrote a script and rehearsed the lines with her over and over since she can’t act for shit. Following our rehearsals, she was as good of an actress as Miss Tori Spelling.
“Justin didn’t tell you this, but he had a brain tumor, and we lost him,” she spilled. “I just thought you might want to know.”
She got so in to her role that she went off the script and even gave him the name of a funeral home, which happens to be owned by a relative.
That, dear parents, is why a funeral director informed you that they received a call about my “death.”
It was despicable of me, but as I learned from “Kill Bill Vol. I,” revenge is a dish best served cold.
Sorry,
Justin
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