Dear Mr Trussington Howell-Foxforthy,
Thank you for returning my manuscript and your enclosed nasty niminy-piminy little note. I am afraid your letter is most unsuitable for me at the present time as I've just spent the entire weekend writing the novel that you have summarily rejected.

I can only assume that it is company policy to reject all manuscripts not submitted in 10-ft high Braille. And yes, I am aware, that it is traditionally bad form to respond to any kind of criticism or rejection. But in this, as with all else, I am an innovator. Therefore I may freely address you as pissmidget.

Still, there is time for you to change your views, and I think you will when we meet. And meet we most assuredly will, when I suck out your eyes and use them as stoppers for my ears to muffle the screams you'll make as I headbutt you into a fine paste.
I do hope you will not be disheartened by your sudden, violent death.

Yours Faithfully, Raivu