To the Person Who Stole My Underwear

I’d heard rumors that people like you existed. People told me to beware of your perversion, to never let my laundry stay alone for long.I always knew the risk was there, so I was vigilant. Yet, I am human, and I err. For forty five minutes I left my laundry alone. I was hungry so I went home to eat dinner, and you took your opportunity to fuck up my good day.


Last night, when you took all of my bras and underwear out of the top left dryer in the coin laundry, you probably assumed that I wouldn’t kick up a fuss. It’s just laundry, after all, what’s the big deal? Then, I suppose you needed a way to carry your ill begotten goods out of there, so you also took my light blue laundry basket, which also held my laundry detergent. Who would really get upset over some old laundry basket and soap? It’s not exactly the end of the world. Besides, most women don’t report such thefts, after all, since it’s a “harmless” crime. It’s embarrassing to report, it makes people uncomfortable, so why would your victim even bother to go through all the trouble?

Well, guess what? I’m American, bitch, and I’m not going to be your victim. I’M GOING TO BE YOUR DESTRUCTION.

Kicking up a shit storm for trivial reasons is America’s national pastime. I called up the Itako police and my Vice Principal. They took my report, and they even took down a list of all MY STUFF that you stole. Yes, it was absolutely one of the most humiliating moments of my life, but it’ll be worth it if they find you. They took pictures. They’re going to review the camera footage outside the coin laundry (which may or may not work, I’m honestly not sure).

Yes, it’s just laundry, but it’s MY LAUNDRY. Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to find bras in Japan?! In the end, I don’t. I wait until Christmas when I go home to buy them. You took my favorite one, dude! Why? You’ve got a thing for purple and bows? You sick bastard. I don’t know who you are, but I’ve imagined you in my head as a stereotypical old geezer with a lecherous smile sitting on hoards of other taken lacy garments.  Alternatively, I also picture you as a closeted transvestite who doesn’t want to risk exposure. As much as I might slightly sympathize with the latter, the underwear was MINE. The basket was…well, technically it was free from my predecessor, but then it was MY FREE BASKET. So fuck you.

The police took down my phone number and said they’ll be in touch. I’m not sure how serious they’ll actually take it, but I’m more than willing to hope someday soon I’ll get a phone call telling me they caught you (hopefully NOT wearing my stuff, ew). Rest assured that if all else fails, then you should know I’m not even done.

I do have a very particular set of skills; skills I have acquired through college antics. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you. If you return my underthings now, that’ll be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don’t, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will…most likely report you to the police. Killing seems a tad excessive, but I can make sure you at least get some jail time for it. Justice shall prevail (maybe)!

You should be aware that Hinode is a really small part of town, so everybody and their mother already knows what happened. They’re more than upset about it, saying that you are one of the reasons Hinode gets a bad rep for theft. They are not pleased, and they like me more than you. We’re looking for you, sir, ALL OF US.

Good luck trying to take my laundry basket out into public, doucheschnozzle.