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Featured version: 8 December 2006 |
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Dear hooker I slept with in Vegas,
I know this might seem like a crappy thing to do to you, seeing as we made all those plans to push the boundaries of human genetics past the point of good taste by procreating, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — but as a bisexual, I'm interested in only two kinds of people — and quite frankly, you don't fit into either category. I just need to find someone who is male and breathes — and quickly. I want to tell you that I think you are not the worst lover I ever had, but that would be a bald-faced lie, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are the flesh and blood scion of the Devil himself, and I am all that and more. You like forcing naughty school children to read the Necronomicon, huffing kittens, and filling guinea pigs with helium, 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 run around screaming and foaming in my padded cell. 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, at least before we met. Take care of yourself and never forget that I know where you buried the body, and won't hesitate to contact police should the need arise.
~ Princess Peach. |