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Featured version: 8 December 2006 |
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Dear Person To Whom It May Concern,
I know this might seem like , well... inevitable, really, 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 — sorry that I didn't take the chance to get rid of you last month, but I promise I'll make up for it the next time we meet. 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 like a senile old parrot, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are an agnostic, and I am a nun. You like other men, carving CD's into lethal shurikens with which to... kill people, 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 for the hell of it. It's not like we don't both have herpes. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever someone asks me to define the word "ugliness". I'd really like us to become slowly solidified into a kind of buttery jell, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, with that goat up in the Himalayas. Take care of yourself and never forget the restraining order the judge issued against you.
~ The Pope.
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