Dear Present Participles,

I’ve never written hate mail before, but my last post was about attempting something new. So I’m trying my hand at hate mail.

I hate you.

You are like the mucus in a Mucinex commercial, but even less appealing. And you’ve ingratiated yourself with my manuscript. Why did no one ever tell me how evil you are?

Yes, I know Hatshepsut fell for you. Hard. But that relationship is over. OVER! I will cut you out no matter how much it makes me bleed. Or her. Or anyone, really.

Hit the road, Present Participles. You’re not wanted around these parts.