Dear the Butcher,
While your name is fucking tough as hell, you...well...alright, maybe you are too. While I know that you have only ever punched one kid in the head, you could probably kick more ass if given the chance. And hell, I know you want to.
You're a fucking compulsive liar. You lie about the stupidest shit that doesn't need to be lied about. Why? Why? Why, you stupid fucking idiot?
I also know your brother worries about you too much. While he means more to you than anything else in the world, I know you wish that he would stop spending his time worrying. If you fuck up, then you fuck up. So be it.
You will fuck up in life. You already have. You are a walking fuckup. There's nothing else to it.
You too are an asshole. One of the biggest assholes around. Why? You're not sure? Neither am I.
You're not very good at what you do, you need to accept it. While guitar is important, you're not good enough to do it the way you want to. Forget it.
In closing, you aren't that great and there are a lot of things you need to realize. Until you do, you're a walking fuck up.
Sincerely yours/
I've disowned you/
the Butcher
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