"I'm home!" Jack shouted unnecessarily loudly as he clomped into the apartment. Despite all the commotion, Carly didn't move from where she was standing.
"Remind me never to go on a daytime talk show again," he groused, "Because that was seriously..."
He abruptly cut himself off as he walked into the kitchen and saw Carly frozen in place, unable to take her eyes off the piece of paper that she grasped.
"You okay, Carly?" Jack asked worriedly. This seemed to snap Carly out of her trance.
"It's nothing," she muttered.
"It's one of those letters again, isn't it?"
"I told you Jack, it's not important..."
"Gimme that!" Jack shouted. Then, not waiting for a response, he snatched the paper out of Carly's hand. On the paper, letters cut from various magazines had been arranged to form the words "DIE BITCH!"
"That. Is. IT!" he raged, his voice in full-on Atlas Bellow mode, "I have had it up to HERE with this bullshit! No one...I repeat NO ONE...is going to threaten my woman and get away with it!"
Carly tried her best to calm him down.
"Jack, please. It's probably just a jealous fourteen-year-old girl who doesn't know any better. I was one myself not too long ago; I know how they think..."
"Now don't make excuses! It doesn't matter if it was a two-year-old...whoever did this must be caught!" Jack interrupted. "Don't worry, I'm going to get this all sorted out right now!"
He put the letter, and the envelope it came in for good measure, in his coat pocket and stormed back toward the foyer.
"Just don't do anything..."
The front door slammed.
"...stupid," Carly finished lamely.