Dear Blob family and Bob,
I think I might dislike you three a little bit. Just kidding, I sincerely hate you all.
Mr. and Mrs. Blob, would you please keep your comments about my handwriting to yourselves? What ever did your parents teach you? Don’t be rude. You wouldn’t like me telling you, Mr. Blob, that you are fat and have an ugly hole? And you, Mrs. Blob, you wouldn’t like me telling you that you’re simply an unwanted smudge? Oh do be kind please.
Bob..I have confidence that you only mean well, but I still highly dislike you. There can never be a perfect draft, you nearly drive me insane with your obsession of having each sentence of a paragraph burned in my brain before I type it out, and I really cannot stand how hideous looking you are. You’re like some sort of bactieria, no, more like a virus—you have no nucleus. You crawl around in my brain and pick at everything. STOP IT.
I hope you three understand the consequences if you do not heed my warning.