I hate you. I hate you as much as any one person can hate a potentially non-existent foe. How retarded can you be? Very, very retarded is the answer. You must have some semblance of a brain because your basket taking caper has thus far gone unsolved.
Please rest assured that you will be apprehended as soon as I get off the couch and turn off the TV. But I will run into my bag again. I just have to. There is no way this was not an inside job. No prints or excessive lint trails at the scene. You are good my friend. You are good.
I am convinced you know who I am am. Now that I have to lug my clothes to and fro in a white trash bag like I were a ghetto Mexican Santa Claus, I am convinced you are enjoying yourself. Well this not being a violent crime I can’t say that I hope you die but I at the very least wish that you one day get a puppy and he dies in your arms. Then I hope you scream to the heavens for retribution and remember me, the guy that only wanted to get out of taking a laundry bag back and forth from his apartment so he left it in the laundry room. He did this because he was convinced there was no one so completely void of a soul that they would snatch my only laundry bag. Do you not understand that I am lazy and will not buy another until I am coincidentally standing next to one in the store.
I am sorry I take it back. I hope you die.
Some Dude you totally fucked over.