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Featured version: 8 December 2006 |
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Dear [insert name of recipient here],
I know this might seem like a total violation of the laws of physics to you, seeing as we made all those plans to infiltrate the "Amnesty International" organization and shamelessly purloin their charity funds, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — I think. I just need a dirty magazine, my right hand and a toilet paper — that's all it takes, really. I want to tell you that I think you are not as strong in the Force as the Emperor thought, 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 addicted to raspberry muffins. You like groping fresh produce, peeling watermelons, and watching DaxFlame on YouTube while singing "Lucy in the Sky of Diamonds", 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 on Pluto. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I run around screaming and foaming in my padded cell. I'd really like us to become snobbish self-styled intellectuals who always change the subject to 19th century Russian literature in order to look smart everytime a third person approaches, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, which lasted until you unexpectedly woke up from your coma. Take care of yourself and never forget the hard work of the ten million chained up monkeys with typewriters that wrote this letter.
~ Brother Eggs-over-easy.
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