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Featured version: 8 December 2006 |
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Dear Mickey Finn,
I know this might seem like a cowardly way of telling you that I ran over your mom with fatal outcome just 10 minutes ago to you, seeing as we made all those plans to push you into the sea tied to a large brick, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — but another officer is at the door - I'll write more in an hour. I just need to put this facade you've been living to an end, before I run out of script material. Ghostwriters cost a fortune. I want to tell you that I think you are composed mainly of various carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen, phosphorus, iron, copper, magnesium, sulfur, calcium, potassium, iodine, sodium and silicon compounds (well, duh...), but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are the disembodied head of Patrick Duffy, and I am Republican. You like sprinting through morning traffic while on fire, stabbing yourself with carrots, 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 our own mirror images. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I forget what your name was. I'd really like us to become born-again strangers, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, before we ended up in Hell together. Take care of yourself and never forget that every time you masturbate, Friedrich Nietzsche kills God.
~ Your sister. |