Dear Mom & Dad,
If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times: I hate baths. Still, every week you make me take one. Why? I've told you I hate them. Aren't you listening?
Last night was the end of my rope. You gave me another bath. What. the. hell.
Well take this. I went outside and rolled in all the drought-killed grass I could find. It got good and stuck to me. I'm a mess. A stinky, grass-covered puppy dog mess.
And I know you won't give me another bath because you wouldn't be able to stand if the last day before your vacation, I gave you the I-hate-baths cold shoulder.
Ha. That'll teach you.