Fictional Terror Plot Wednesday: A Letter from 11-year-old Angie

Hi Officer Smith!

My name’s Angie and I’m writing to you because my mommy told me to write you a letter saying thank you for protecting my aeroplane and for letting me take my shoes off at the airport now and…

Look. Let’s just cut the shit. This little lady’s gonna bring some motherfucking pain. You fucked up good now, TSA, because I guarantee you ain’t never seen a terrorist like me.

Angie 12-year-old gun

Assholes.

I got me some hardcore firepower in these shoes and there ain’t a motherfucking thing you or anyone can do about it, because when Angie ain’t happy, nobody’s happy. And why ain’t Angie happy?

Three words, one year: pink sippy cup, 2006.

Remember me now, shit buckets? Here’s how the clusterfuck went down: A group of jackass terrorists came up with a plot to bring liquid explosives aboard a plane, and you immediately freaked the fuck out and banned all liquids from going through airport security.  Well I bet you wish you’d have calmed your tits now, TSA, because I was at the airport with my mommy when that bullshit emergency directive went into effect. The confused, dumb-ass officer who saw my sippy cup on the X-Ray machine declared it had to be surrendered due to the recent liquids plot. I loved that sippy cup.

Loved it almost as much as my SpongeBob backpack. It was the Dora the Explorer sippy cup my daddy bought for me when i was 2. I cried and swore revenge. Never in my wittle toddler mind did I imagine that dumb-shit rule would still be in effect 8 years later, but here we are.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I found out the good motherfucking news not too long ago.

Angie Kids Keep Shoes

All children twelve and under are now exempt from enhanced security! Apparently, we’re a low-risk population! Well I’ll show you a goddamned low-risk population when I make you regret writing kids off as little punk-asses who can’t make it rain. Never underestimate what a little girl scorned and robbed of her juicy-juice can do. You fucked with the wrong Little Miss Princess, and now I’m going to make you rue the day you came up with that dipshit liquids rule.

My name is Angie. You took my sippy cup. Prepare to die.

______

Fictional plot submitted by Tim M. from San Francisco

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