Letter to the Idiot Girl From the Gym

Dear Girl,

I apologize for such a cold address, but I never caught your name. It could be, perhaps, because I never asked for it, but let's pretend that I did and it was too hard for you to get through due to your inability to process simple concepts. I say this, not from a sense of entitled prejudice against blonde high schoolers, rather the actions – your actions – as I observed this evening.

Here's a tip: When you walk up to the backdoor of the apartment building's gym and the door doesn't open, because it is an exit-only door, might I suggest you walk the thirty feet to the other side of the room and enter through the front door, which is not only open, but is conveniently located at the front of the gym? I understand that you may have felt that your idea, repeatedly tapping on the glass until I, the only other person in the gym, got off of my stationary bike and walked over to the door to let you in, was a fantastic plan worthy of the patent office, however, I feel that under proper scrutiny, my proposal holds more water.

I write this letter not to judge, reprimand, or belittle you. Rather, I write this to bemoan your offspring. For, as we've all learned from the Theory of Evolution (also known as "Darwin's Magic Joke Book" at your local Pentecostal bookstore) your brood is likely to suffer in the "natural selection" lottery as they will, more than likely, die off in freak hammer-to-head and let's-see-how-long-I-can-poke-this-rabid-hyena accidents.

For them, I am truly sorry. For you, I am only slightly annoyed.

Well, I suppose not slightly. I am writing this letter after all.

Well-played, idiot girl. It appears that you, truly, have won.

Cody Melcher
(the guy on the stationary bike on the other side of the gym whom was watching a tv show on his phone and was thus able to pretend that he couldn't hear you for five minutes while you continued to stand there tapping on the glass with one finger as if the other door weren't plainly visible)