Tweet tweet. That’s right. It’s me, motherfucker. You know every time your mom has told you, “a little birdy told me” followed by some random messed up shit that you’ve done? That’s me, bitch. Big or small, life-threatening or otherwise, I will find out anything and everything that you have done wrong. In fact, my sole purpose in life is to keep your mom updated on all the reasons she should be disappointed in you. Room’s a mess? She knows. C on your midterm? She’s aware. One night stand with that boy Brad from the Alpha Chi Party? She’s on the phone with his mom right now.

So, by this point you’ve probably realized you have some apologizing to do. Remember when you accused your brother of telling your mom that you skipped school to go to the mall with Sarah? Yeah, that was me. And when you thought your neighbor was the one who called the police when you threw that rager?  Surprise, surprise. Also me. By the time I’m through with you, your friends, your mom, and everyone else in your life will hate you and your wrongful little accusations.

Why do I do it, you ask? I don’t get paid. And no one’s forcing me to do it. You see, it’s simple really. You know the feeling you get when you take candy from a helpless little baby? Or the rush you feel when you “accidentally” trip an innocent old lady on the street? Perhaps you’ve experienced the surge of adrenaline that comes with kicking a toddler in the shins? Well that surge is why I do it. That moment of pure unadulterated joy. There’s nothing quite like the satisfaction I feel when your mom is forced to face the fact that she’s created a failure. Or the feeling I get when you finally realize it too. Sure, that might sound harsh, but reality’s a bitch. And so am I.

See you in your nightmares.