Dear Orion Lord, (You effing narcissist—remember to delete.)

 

A day comes when an overqualified assistant becomes tired of picking up your laundry, managing your many girlfriends, lying to them, acting as your personal alarm clock, and a new low for you, Mr. Lord, bringing you a cold bottle of water at the end of your run.

 

You run? When did you start running?

 

Never mind.

 

Oh… I almost forgot, having me stalk your brother and his fiancée that was not your finest moment and actually lower than the water thing. (Delete—maybe.)

 

The point is, yes, the money is excellent, but you are not (Remember to revise). I quit. This is my two-weeks’ notice.

 

Not Even Sincerely, (Remember to delete)

Delilah O’Shay