Dear Sex toy,
By the time you read this, I'll be wiretapping your telephone calls.
I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but uh, well... now what was it again... (God dammit) Oh, yes, I was going to write to you because... because... ummmhhh... (hang on a minute)... I seem to have lost my memory so I'll just improvise a letter with no true meaning from now on, if you don't mind (which you'll probably do).
I know this might seem like an insidious scheme to dominate the universe
to you, seeing as we made all those plans to slowly fade into non-existence, but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — but another officer is at the door - I'll write more in an hour. I just need more length from you than I'm getting, and let's face it — you're shrinking with age.
I want to tell you that I think you are in need of some serious physical therapy against your hideous acid breath, but I don't think we're right for each other.
First of all, we're not really compatible. You are from another dimension,
and I am an amateur weightlifter.
You like bungee jumping from church steeples, masturbating to gardening shows, and gas tungsten arc welding,
and I'm just not sure I can ever share your joy in those things.
How can two people so different ever make it for the long haul? I think we should date our respective parents, if only so we can feel unfaithful again.
But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I'm too lazy to clean my dishes by myself.
I'd really like us to become partners in crime and rob helpless old ladies of their retirement savings,
if that's okay with you. I think we can do it.
We had some good times, before the psychatrist told me that you're just a figment of my imagination.
Take care of yourself and never forget that pushing Up Up Down Down Left Right Left Right B A Start on your keyboard may be fatal to your health.
God save the Queen,
~ A cast of thousands.
P.S. They're coming to take me away! D.S.
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