This letter is to inform you that, effective today, you are formally asked to vacate the premises. Your presence here shall no longer be tolerated.
I don’t remember asking you to move in. You just let yourself in, uninvited and unannounced. I don’t know if you came via injection, ingestion, inhalation or inheritance and frankly I don’t care. However you got here, I just want you to leave.
You are the worst kind of house guest.
You have imposed yourself in every aspect of our lives. You do not allow us a single meal or visit to the park without your presence.
You’ve cost us and the state of CA, two entities who can hardly afford your exorbitant prices, approximately $300,000 in the two years since your arrivial. Funds were spent on multiple therapies (speech, behavior, and occupational), as well as numerous specialty items (including but not limited to weighted lap pads, chewy tubes, and three identical stuffed monkey toys), not to mention, time, gas, and additional bottles of wine consumed. Complete, itemized list available upon request.
Specialists have told us you will not go easily. They say it takes years to evict you, if it’s even possible. Others say to just let you move in and accept your presence. They say as I get to know you I might even learn to like you. I admit, at times you can be a charming devil, but I’ll take my chances. We can keep in touch on Facebook.
Please remember to lock the door on your way out. I won’t let you lead Moe outside only to find him drowned in a neighbor’s pool. This story is all too common and invades my dreams at night. I guess you’ve taken root there too.
Thank you for choosing to live in the Bush Family. You’ve taught us much and altered our lives forever. Now get out.
Director of Operations, Bush Family
Today's Red Writing Hood prompt was to write a formal letter to your greatest fear.