Another douche on the phone... Fuck, I hate this job. I'm just in here for the books.

"Hello, this is ████████████'s Bookstore. Fuck you for calling." Jesus Christ, probably some smarmy arrogant dickhead who owns a typewriter.

"Hey ███████, it's Tim. Calling about ███, she hasn't seen you in about 9 years. You haven't even sent in a letter." Oh, it's that douche. The one that fostered my daughter.

"Isn't she like 7 though?"

"She's 23." Fuck, has it really been that long?

"Shit... Can you put her on?"

"Nope. She doesn't want anything to do with you and your sh- stuff..."

"Listen Dickhead, if you don't put her on, I'll fucking burn down your house!"

"No, you won't. You're probably too high to even walk out of that damn trashed up store of yours. Besides, she's not even living with us." He was right about that first part...

"WELL, MARK MY FUCKIN- ARGH."