Dear Girl in my DUI Class,

I loathe you. In fact, I don't think I have had such a burning hatred for anyone in a long time. You revulse me in ways I cannot even comprehend as a mortal human being.

I came in, mild-mannered, and sat down in the Third row, second seat from the right aisle. There, I was, unpacking my notebook, and preparing for a productive class period or, at least, a productive crossword period.

Then you came and sat down. You sauntered in on those mammoth haunches of yours, satchel over your left shoulder, and plopped right in front of me. As if your gargantuan ass didn't serve as ample distraction already, your head was even bigger. I don't think I ever encountered a girl with such a large head before. So large. Did you grow up near a nuclear testing site? Phenotypic variations like yours only occur on the extreme runt end of the bell curve, these proportions don't come naturally. To compound the situation, you have hair like a banshee. Who told you to grow your hair out so big and so long? If Rapunzel had an afro, she'd be you. That's not hair, it's a mane.

I'm a short kid. I don't tower over anyone. My head certainly is not the size of a basketball, and my hair is not an explosion of fur like yours. Do you have to sit in front of me? Why do you insist upon this? You completely block my view of not only the front of the room, but also my entire periphery. Seriously, you have large hair. Shave your scalp, please. For the love of humanity. Then again, the Sinead O'Connor look probably wouldn't appear well on you, as your head is as misshapen as it is bulbous. When you're combing that dense forestation tomorrow morning, please put it in a pony-tail of sorts. It would be fitting, as you are the size of a horse.

Please. You make me want to weep. I'm going to refer to you as Golgor from now on. Golgor, the colossal she-beast Amazon.

Why do you insist upon talking on your phone in class? You're supposed to turn off your phone in class. It's a distraction to the teacher, and it's a distraction to me. There are sheer seconds left until he begins his lecture, and you're yakking about the finer points of the debauchery in which you partook the night before at somebody's apartment. Why would someone ever want to copulate with you? Was this person even of the same species? Is there a man-beast equivalent of you? I hope not. But I cannot focus, because you simply will not shut up. Please. Please, for the love of God, shut up. I'd like to help. If I have to sacrifice my frail body as fodder to shove in your mouth, I would, so at least the rest of the class would appreciate the silence left in the wake of my complicated digestion within your bowels. I wish they made muzzles for people like you. Except it'd have to be huge, to fit your large, large head. I guess it makes sense - large head, large mouth. I bet you are the living incarnation of the Chupacabra. I would whole-heartedly accept you as goat-sucker. I see why you would scare an entire country into adequate fencing. In fact, I'm calling Weekly World News right after class. Why not immediately? Because I have some semblance of decency not to plague the class with my inane banter when the lecture is about to start.

Oh my God. No. You did not just take out a sandwich. I see now why you are so enormous. Is it because you can't stop shoveling food into that gaping hole of yours? You're talking and eating. You are the most disgusting person I have ever seen. You bring shame to females everywhere by your uncouth and bothersome habits. I can't believe the noxious stench emanating from that sandwich. I didn't realize they sold onion-garlic-sauerkraut-limburger-rotting human carcass sandwiches at any of the local bistroes. Seriously. I think you're unhinging your jaw in order to more quickly shove that reeking mass of food into that cavernous mouth of yours. Again, why do you insist upon sitting near me? There are numerous other seats you'd fit into in the back. Why can't you move to one of those? Look, one's close to a window. You can watch outside and start preying upon the next student who shall be your after-class snack.

I swear to God. You didn't turn off your phone, and it just rang and interrupted the lecture. And then you didn't even shut it off, you answered it! You said "I have to call you back, I'm in class." Are you the dumbest specimen ever to lurch across the earth? Garden slugs have more common sense than you! And at least them I can kill with a salt-shaker. I wonder what would kill you. Certainly regular weaponry would have no effect, as it wouldn't even pierce through the thick layers of engorged fatty tissue. Famine, I bet. Have you no shame? I can't believe they let you in to this school. Wait, I get it. You probably ate some poor student and assumed their identity. That must be it. There's no other rational explanation for it.

I can't even take sufficient notes, because you keep making chomping noises, crinkling the wrappers, or shifting your immensity to either side in the chair. Want to know why it's so uncomfortable for you? Because chairs were not meant to hold such incredible girth. A tip - stop eating sandwiches in class. Or stop eating altogether. It couldn't hurt to cut out "living human beings" from the top of your food pyramid. I can't believe you're still cramming food into your oozing maw. I don't want to be around when all this comes out the other end.

Golgor, she-beast Amazon in my Persuasive Theory Class - please don't sit by me again. Your very presence arouses my ire. You smell. You have a huge head. You're annoying. I don't want to listen to your banter.

I hate you I hate you I hate you.

Sincerely,

Christopher Adkins

P.S. Can I borrow your notes for tomorrow's quiz?