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 Featured Article (read another featured article)
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Featured version: 8 December 2006 |
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Dear Captain Blackbeard,
I know this might seem like an Uncyclopedia in-joke to you, seeing as we made all those plans to spend at least more than two hours together, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — really. No, really. Those are teardrops on the letter, and not spittle from laughter. I just need more out of this relationship. Financially, emotionally, sexually, intellectually. Everythingually. I want to tell you that I think you are dumb as a rock, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are not even real, just a Sim character I created last week in The Sims 3, and I am into bodysurfing. You like laying on the floor with all the lights off, scratching yourself publicly, and igniting your own fart, 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 at Disneyland. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I make additions to my personal list of people I intend to kill. 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, nah; I'm just screwing with you. Take care of yourself and never forget that every time you see a rainbow, someone is having gay sex.
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