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Featured version: 8 December 2006 |
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Dear I know this might seem like a slap in the face to you, seeing as we made all those plans to terrorize the elderly couple that lives down the road, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — well; not really. I just thought it'd sound good. 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 ...unusually odorous, in a good way... sometimes, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are so fat that Jupiter orbits around you sometimes, and I am stuck in an elevator and slowly succumbing to my own flatulence (since I had nothing but pea soup and brown beans this morning). You like playing Worms 3D, peeling watermelons, and practicing surgery on household pests, 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 spy on your naked self with the hidden camera I've installed in your shower stall. I'd really like us to become people that pretend not to know each other, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, pretending we're screwing someone else. Take care of yourself and never forget that I have your son and will kill him unless you transfer five million dollars to my bank account by next Thursday.
~ The unmentionable one. |