Hester, I owe you an apology. Yes, I did push you down the stairs in an attempt to murder you and your fake unborn baby. And while my motivations were airtight and my conscience clear, still, I'm sorry. You, Chanel #6, are my sister, and that bond is stronger than some silly little attempt on your life.
And furthermore, I'm sorry that you had to sit through the most mean-spirited game of Pictionary in the history of Pictionary! I mean, no one deserves to be spoken to like that, particularly not by what is, without a doubt, the most awful family in America! Chad, your leathery excuse for a mother looks like an ostrich-hide clutch from last season that somehow learned to talk. And, Mr. Radwell, I have never seen anyone spend so much money to make a house look this tacky! I've honestly seen more tasteful decor at a Sizzler. And you, Thad, have a bright future ahead of you in the sex offender wing of a supermax prison! [to Brad] And you, sir, give the kind, hard-working, deeply moral people who work in such a wonderful industry as Hollywood a bad name! And, Chad Radwell, whatever we had between us is over! I am walking out that door and never speaking to you again.
Well, consider this coming to my senses, because no woman in her right mind would want anything to do with this family! So goodbye, Chad. Goodbye forever.
Chanel is right. All they're gonna do is look at Gigi's severed, roasted head and say that they have no proof that it is in any way related to the killings at campus
ATTENTION ALL USELESS KAPPA SLUTS – Congratulations! If you’re reading this it means you’ve overcome the limitations of your tiny manatee brains and opened an email. Now if you’re asking yourself “DERR, wait, I’m confused. Is Chanel talking to me? Am I a useless Kappa slut?" Simply ask yourself the following question aloud: "IS MY NAME CHANEL #3, CHANEL #5, CHANEL #6 or ZAYDAY WILLIAMS?” If the answer to that is YES then FELICITATIONS! THIS MISSIVE IS FOR YOU! So, do you all remember when we agreed to meet at the campus pool and kill the Dean and I got you all awesome new phones so that when it came time to meet, the phone would light up a certain color, and when it did, you didn’t even have to answer it? You just had to come meet at the aforementioned pool? And then do you remember NOT coming to the pool, despite me making it super easy for you by concocting a plan so simple that an orangutan could have figured it out? Like, literally a circus ape of moderate intelligence could have looked down at the phone sticking out of the single pocket in the front of his comical lederhosen and seen it light up and used his short little legs to waddle over to his tiny motorized shriners car and driven to the pool like I asked. Do you remember any aspect of this SUPER SIMPLE PLAN? That’s not a rhetorical question. I’m literally asking if your tiny slut brains have the power to process ANY OF MY SUPER-SIMPLE ORANGUTAN LEVEL INSTRUCTIONS! Because what I remember is that NONE OF YOU SHOWED UP! Which meant I had to sit at that stupid pool by myself like a GRADE-A ASSHAT with a bag full of enormous chains to drown Dean Munsch with and then have a super awkward convo with her where I was like “OH DURR I JUST LIKE BRING ENORMOUS CHAINS TO POOLS” and I looked like a total div. I don’t entirely know what you whores could have been doing that was more important than helping your chapter president drown a serial killer, but unless that thing you were doing was getting enemas of pure liquid gold at a new local establishment called "LIQUID GOLD COLONICS FOR YOUNG SLUTS", like, if you were doing LITERALLY ANYTHING else, you all should seriously consider doing the human race a favor and getting sterilized. I’m not being facetious, I literally think you should consider undergoing a surgical procedure to remove your ovaries, thereby sparing human race exposure to your DNA. You four trollops ARE THE WORST SPECIMEN OF HUMAN BEINGS EVER BORN and you should all REALLY watch your backs, because if this serial killer targeting Kappa house doesn’t chop off your heads, I'M GOING TO DO IT! So I can sell your tiny whore brain pans to science.
Even though I only ate asylum food and never really exercised, I was blessed with a super tight bod. My butt could launch a thousand ships, and my boobs were remarkably perky and even. Couple that with my BJ lips, and I was gonna need something pretty spectacular to keep everyone from wanting to get all up in this.
Oh, more than some, Dean. I-I read your best-selling New York Times book three times. Th-These kids were martyrs for a much bigger cause.
DCDean Cathy Munsch
I know it was you, Hester. I remember that little girl's face in the bathroom that night. Burned into my memory, like Joe Theismann's injury and Two Girls One Cup. I remember every detail of her little face. And I certainly would know what she would look like all grown up.
It's not my fault that all of that happened to me. You see how awesome Wes is. He would've been my dad. I would've had a good life. Maybe if I would've had a real dad, my brother wouldn't have turned into such a douche. Maybe family trips to ski in Innsbruck or to Williamstown to see Tim Daly in Death of a Salesman would've turned me into a much more sane young woman. But that didn't happen. And I can't be blamed for the painful circumstances of my upbringing.
DCDean Cathy Munsch
No, but those kids died. They're dead. And that is your fault.
It all worked out, Dean. And I'm never gonna kill again. As long as I'm not texting and driving. Everyone got what they wanted. And even if the Chanels didn't actually kill any of these people, they perpetuated the system that created me and my brother, Pete and Gigi. So if anyone should pay for this, it should be them.
DCDean Cathy Munsch
I also have a conscience, and a responsibility to all those dead kids, that their killer be brought to justice. So I am gonna turn you in, Hester.
Then I'm gonna turn you in, for covering up the murder of my mother and killing your ex-husband... Or we could just say we're good... and move on. To our very happy and successful best-selling lives.
