Disclaimer: Man these things are annoying. Transformers and all related characters belong to Hasbro and not me. I only use them for my own entertainment.
Anyways I got the idea for this story from a couple letters I read that a little kid wrote. They were letters of apology to another kid that were about him being sorry for calling him a "smelly hamburger" and "bugger burger breath." In the real letter though, they spelt smelly as smellie. I will use the correct version of smelly. Anyways, this is only going to be a oneshot, and it's not an apology letter.
For many eons now I have been serving as your second in command of the decepticon army. You've come to know me as a troublemaker and a traitor. Of course I know you've always hated me, but that really doesn't bother me. The feeling is mutual between you and I. Always you seem to infuriate me, and all it takes for you to do that is just by saying, "You're an idiot, Starscream." Primus, you don't realize how much that ticks me off.
So since today I actually had time, I decided to write you this letter to tell you exactly what I think of you. I'll begin in a minute, but first I must warn you about a couple things. First, you will take severe offense to all of these insults. Secondly, all these statements are copyrighted and therefore you cannot use them or you'll be thrown in jail. And lastly, you might need a tissue just incase you start crying and need to run to your mama. Thus, I begin.
I always dread when you grab me by the throat and lift me to your optic level, bringing my face closer to yours. And it's not because it hurts either, it's because of your breath. Gosh it's the vilest thing I've ever laid whiff to. It smells like hamburger that's been fermenting on a log that someone threw up on. Yes, it's that bad. And don't ask me how I know what a hamburger smells like. I just do.
Also over the millions of years I've been serving you, I've noticed your midline slowly…increasing…in every direction. So you fat old oaf, perhaps you should cut down on the number of hamburgers you eat! Not only are those meat slabs killing your breath, but also your midline. I bet in a few years you won't even be able to fit in your thrown, let alone your bathtub. Just what will happen to you, my obese leader, when you can't even fit through your own door? Think about that, Megatron. You are what you eat.
So, you smelly hamburger you, with the bugger burger breath, how much are you going to change your ways after you read this? You should just give up your title as leader of the hamburgers, er...decepticons and leave me in charge. You are the idiot Megatron! You're a no good, rotten, lying, thieving, fat, smelly hamburger! If you don't hand me the leadership of the decepticons, these letters will not stop.
But I'm not finished quite yet. There are so many more things I wish to call you like bastard, retard, lame-o, wretched, etc. but I will need an infinite amount of paper. I don't have that much paper since you do not provide any funding for it, or the amount of time I need to finish such a task. So I'll close with this:
I hate you, you smelly hamburger. I hate you more than I do the autobots and Optimus Prime. Infact, the universe couldn't even hold my hate for you. But now I am rambling. I shall not waste anymore of your time, smelly hamburger.
Please in Primus's name don't punish me for this,