Have I not been pleasant? Have I not played pretty, managed not to saw their heads off with my fingernails? I thought that I'd kept a civil tongue in my mouth, a soothing smile on my face. Revise that: I KNOW I did.
And yet they still hurt me. The kick me like a cur despite the fact that I'm a bitch. They pull the rug from beneath my feet though I'm standing on hardwood floor. Well, enough is enough! I'm sick of this whole bitterscratch affair!
You're going to leave me alone, let me be. You'll keep your fabrications inside your head and your nose securely out of my business. (Unless you want it chopped off.) Since you're a bitch to me when I'm nothing but nice to you, maybe my assuming the role of bitch will make our roles reverse.
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