Dear Mystery Midnight Caller

I think you should know I consider you the lowest sort of evil creature.  If I ever find you, I will kill you.  With fiery vengeance.  If I had the power, I would hate you to death right now.

So you understand why I am so very angry, I will explain slowly and in detail.  The vast majority of humans sleep at night and work during the day; they also tend to work on Fridays and are thus unlikely to stay up late on a Thursday night.  Put another way, around midnight on Thursday nights, most people are sleeping.  And I am one of those people.

That is until you decide to call.

Every five minutes.

Until I get out of bed, locate my phone and turn on airplane mode.

Then I stagger back to my bed, only to find that sleep now eludes me.

All because of you, caller identified not as a series of 13 digits, but simply one: 9.  Because you were the kind of self-important asshole to call again and again and again until I staggeringly look around a dark house for a black phone.

Because of you, my Friday was not a joyous countdown to camping, but a sleepy haze wherein I struggle to remember everything I had planned to pack due to exhaustion.

If you’re reading this, do me a favor and go die in a fire.

Sincerely,

slignot