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Featured version: 8 December 2006 |
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Dear <insert name here>,
I know this might seem like a bit of a shock to you, seeing as we made all those plans to slowly cannibalize each other one bite at a time, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — I think. I just need to finish that annoying Zork game on that Uncyclopedia website I told you about yesterday (it's driving me crazy, it's like no matter what you do, you'll ALWAYS end up being eaten by a grue!). I want to tell you that I think you are evil incarnate, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are nobody, and I am Maximus Decimus Meridius, commander of the Armies of the North, General of the Felix Legions, loyal servant to the true emperor, Marcus Aurelius. Father to a murdered son, husband to a murdered wife. And I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next. You like using magnifying glasses to kill aunts, scratching yourself publicly, and belly-button sniffing, 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 — oh wait, I meant to write "hate" of course. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I watch Aphex Twin's music video for Windowlicker and the "hot babe" turns around. I'd really like us to become engaged in a brutal medieval fight to the death with the good ole' armour, horse and lances (but only if I get to win), if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, at least while we were in separate cells at the police station. Take care of yourself and never forget your true place in life (which is at my feet, groveling in abject obedience).
~ DJ Pie Saftey.
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