Dear Stomach Flu,

I regret to inform you that I am no longer in need of your services. Well, to be honest, I don't regret that at all, especially since I never requested your services in the first place. But seriously, get out. Get far, far away from me and never return. I feel the need to give you some advice and I'm going to be brutally honest, alright? People don't like you. They don't like you because you make them puke like there's no tomorrow. Nobody likes that! If you don't change your ways, you will never have a single friend. Please change, I beg of you. And even if you don't change, atleast get away from me. You, my not so friend, are a disease. And I mean that in the most literal sense.

I hate you from the depths of my soul, in fact, I loathe you,

Pukey Pukerson


P.S. I hope you die a miserable, miserable death by...antibiotic or some such medicine.