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Featured version: 8 December 2006 |
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Dear all-boobs-and-no-brains,
I know this might seem like I'm into polygamy or something just because I have five wives at the same time, but I'm sorry about this — but if the writing's a but shakey that's only because of my helpless, loud and hysterical laughter. I just need to engage in homicidal behavior on a massive scale. It can not be corrected but I have no other way to fulfill my needs. I want to tell you that I think you are the unidentified person I ran over with my truck at 10:40 P.M. yesterday, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are a good-for-nothing crack whore, and I am your Siamese twin. You like other men, insult sword fighting, and recommending suicide as the only viable cure for hiccups, 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 other species. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I completely run out of other, far more important things to think about. I'd really like us to become friends, but I think that won't happen. I rather not speak to you again, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, even if they only lasted a few microseconds. Take care of yourself and never forget that you are now statistically 50% less likely to ever find a lasting and fulfilling relationship during your lifetime.
~ A cast of thousands.
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