Dear Bitch,

How's it going? Good? That's nice. Me? Oh, I could be better. You see I was standing behind your friend in line at the coffee shop earlier. As were a lot of other people. That's right, that group of people stretching from the counter to the door, it was a line.
That's typically how this kind of situation works. People come in and wait to be served in the order they arrived. You start at the back of the line and work your way to the front. Just like everyone else.
Do you see the step you skipped? The waiting part? You know, like when you came in, brushed passed everyone else in line and headed right for the spot near the front, with your friend. And I'd love to believe that you are completely ignorant of this process, but your friend was as fidgety as a speed freak which is a pretty good indication that she knew what she was doing. Innocent people don't get like that. (That and she didn't order anything, you did. Which was really cute by the way.)
You're tall and thin and blond and pretty, I know. You're used to getting what you want and judging from you attire, paying too much for it. But somehow that still doesn't make you any more important than me or anyone else.
The next time you pull that kind of inconsiderate, school yard bullshit I'm going to snap you in half like a twig. Okay?
Thanks in advance for your consideration.
Always nice chatting with you.
-Gwen