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Featured version: 8 December 2006 |
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Dear Ex-Friend with Benefits,
I know this might seem like , well... inevitable, really, to you, seeing as we made all those plans to infiltrate the "Save the Children" organization and shamelessly purloin their charity funds, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — but I thought that since I've now finally managed to track you down, it might be good manners to at least write one last good-bye letter to you before I kill you. I just need to find someone who is male and breathes — and quickly. I want to tell you that I think you are ...more than passable, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are an epic fail, and I am Republican. You like flaying lambs, recording your own toilet visits and sharing it on file sharing networks as MP3's wrongfully named as famous songs, and belly-button sniffing, 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 mentions the words "seven and half", "inch" and "cock" in my presence. I'd really like us to become road sweepers or something, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, before the psychatrist told me that you're just a figment of my imagination. 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.
~ Your abusive stepfather.
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