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Featured version: 8 December 2006 |
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Dear LeChuck,
I know this might seem like a big surprise 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 — I think. I just need a bit of a laugh. I want to tell you that I think you are like an impudent grain of sand, warring against a raging ocean, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are the demi-duchess of Kumswalla, and I am that lonely obsessed stalker who refused to just settle for your autograph. You like toying with mousetraps, pretending to be Captain America, and biking against red light at rush hour, 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 again, but only if we're re-incarnated into each other's bodies and I get to be "you" next time. Oh yes. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I wiretap your telephone calls. I'd really like us to become theatrical actors in a Romeo & Juliet play, except we'll kill ourselves for real in the end just for the sake of realism, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, five past seven on Sunday November 3rd 2003 springs to mind, for instance. Take care of yourself and never forget that I'm no longer in a coma.
~ Your former sister-in-law.
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