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Featured version: 8 December 2006 |
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Dear Sperm Donor,
I know this might seem like punch in the jaw to you, seeing as we made all those plans to alphabetize our combined compact disc collections someday, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — I think. I just need more cowbell. I want to tell you that I think you are a mammal, but I don't think we're right for each other.
First of all, we're not really compatible. You are the flesh and blood scion of the Devil himself,
and I am a grue and will certainly eat you the next time we meet.
You like traveling to other cities and show up uninvited at total strangers birthday parties, huffing kittens, and watching animal porn,
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 when Hell freezes over.
But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I need to I'd really like us to become bitter enemies, constantly plotting each other's downfall until one of us (preferably me) succeeds, giving that person (again, preferably me) the opportunity to engage in stereotypical maniacal laughter, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, pretending we're screwing someone else. Take care of yourself and never forget that Soylent Green tastes like spinach.
~ Norman Bates. |