While working a second job parking cars, I was designated to the handicap lot. Of course, everyone with a blue placard was pointing it at me as they approached, making sure they are in the elite status category. You and your son decided to ignore my signal and park yourself in a wheelchair spot I was saving for the woman who had a 90-year-old mother who was dying of cancer. You made some remarks and proceeded to get bombed in the VIP tent. Exiting, your wife commented on what a great job you did getting such a great parking spot. I noticed your car had a yacht-club decal on the back. Here's hoping your boat sinks.
Send anonymous thanks, confessions or accusations—changing or deleting the names of the guilty and innocent—to firstname.lastname@example.org.
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