I’m getting ready for work now and I had nightmares all night about you, Peter. I stayed up till 2 AM with anxiety. Now I have to go in and hopefully not see you today. I hope you don’t email me or call me or drag your fat sorry ass down the stairs to see me. Actually I hope you trip down those stairs because you fucking deserve it. You’re a sorry excuse for human being. You are a waste of flesh. You are fat, short, bald, hideous, and you deserve all those descriptions because they are true because you treat people like garbage. You are a fucking gossip. Shame on you. You don’t deserve your huge salary. I hope your house burns down and I hope you get knocked on the head and can’t work anymore.