Arch Enemies

(Ape is D)

D -
Very well then, you may go...

A -
Pssh, whatever, YOU go. Fetch me my ale.

D -
You mistake me for a common serving wench sir, perhaps if you had not been blinded by the syphilis and if your ears had not been...damaged...during your "i wanna put my whole head up a cows backside" phase you would recognize a social better and be gone as I have wished.
Low-blood scum.

A -
Peasant. Your vile tongue and crude insults only confirm what I have long thought - that your brain has been permanently addled by too much drink and your penchant for smacking your head into inanimate objects. I fear that even conversing with you has somehow soiled me.....I must burn these clothes.....

D -
Foul rapscallion, blaming your higher-ups for your loose bowels and arsonistic tendancies...If I wasn't worried about becoming infected with the horrible disease that has rendered your head to that contortion of bumps and oozing holes that you would call a face , I would backhand you like the infectous corner-strutting women of the night that you wish you were.

A -
Pathetic. You play with words the way a mindless child plays with toys - go back to shovelling manure, boy, and let the men do the talking. I'd repay your insolence with blood if I didn't think that hitting a simpleton would dishonour me.

D -
After this conversation sir, I can assure you that I will have had to handle quite enough manure to last me 3 more lifetimes. I have never before seen such a creature that has their anus placed directly under their nose, one would think it would be enough to keep you from opening the orifice and spewing your verbal diarrhea, but apparently you have learned to deal with the stink of your own waste, and continue to want to smear the world with your ramblings. May God take mercy on his biggest mistake, and strike you and the breading pair of sibling dung beetles from which you were spawned, dead.

A -
Perhaps your parents, out of some ill-gotten sense of pity, allowed you to live, rather than drowning you in the nearest body of water, as all of humanity has so dearly wished. Perhaps you are the result of rampant inbreeding. Perhaps you parents were pigs who produced a hideous half-man - I care not. I can only chuckle, with the calm air of a man who has seen so many yelping dogs like yourself bark their impotent fury at those of us who have fared better in life with our God-given gifts, at your paltry attempts to be offensive.
Perhaps I shall purchase you a dictionary, so that when you rail so ineffectually against my arguments, you will at least do so with a dim grasp of what my words mean; that is, of course, if your sausage-life fingers can manage the dexterity to grasp the pages, and your feeble mind, like that of the smallest lizard, can grasp the starnge symbols upon the page.
I fear most mightily that your kind shall one day find the opportunity to breed, and we will have to suffer the sight and sounds of more of you. Perhaps we will have the requisite organs removed so that the possibility is gone, and we will send you to follow the dogs in the kennel and wipe their asses.


***Note - The above is an actual string of emails that started when I failed to return the change from a coffee run.