Dear John letter

From Uncyclopedia, the content-free encyclopedia
Jump to navigation Jump to search
(random content ~ click for a different version)
Letter Background.jpg

Wax seal.jpg
Ink spot1.png



Featured.png
Potatohead aqua.png Featured Article  (read another featured article) Featured version: 8 December 2006
This article has been featured on the main page. — You can vote for or nominate your favourite articles at Uncyclopedia:VFH.
Template:FA/08 December 2006
Hand pencil.png
Saturday, July 5, 2025

Dear Santa,

By the time you read this, I'll be in pitched battle with God and all his host of angels. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but no, I am not going to stop sending these letters just because the judge and my psychiatrist told me not to.

I know this might seem like karmic kannibalism to you, seeing as we made all those plans to alphabetize our combined compact disc collections someday, 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 space. Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan is sounding pretty nice to me right now.

I want to tell you that I think you are a..well...um...okay, nice...yeah...maybe, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are a pederast, and I am worried about it. You like smoking banana peels, talking like Captain Kirk, and arguing with the voices only you can hear over dinner plans, 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 each other's pets. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I need a good laugh.

I'd really like us to become partners in crime and steal candy from helpless little kids, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, I think.

Take care of yourself and never forget that it's going to take more than a restraining order to keep me away from our children — they are mine too and I will not be denied them.

Good luck with your castrated penis,

~ You, before you became amnesiac.

P.S. I accidentally dropped your cat into a bowl of hydrochloric acid yesterday. I'm afraid she got sent to the cornfield. Sorry about that. D.S.