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Featured version: 8 December 2006 |
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Dear tomorrow's headlines,
I know this might seem like a sinister scheme from me to stage an "accident" and claim the life insurance policy on you (which it is) to you, seeing as we made all those plans to enter the Guinness Book of World Records by the becoming the first couple ever to watch "The Cure for Insomnia" without falling asleep, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — or at least that's what you're supposed to say in these situations. I just need to engage in homicidal behavior on a massive scale. It can not be corrected but I have no other way to fulfill my needs. I want to tell you that I think you are my repressed feminine side, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are an atheist, and I am an Uncyclopedia in-joke. You like having sex in dumpsters, harassing sheep until they explode, and recommending suicide as the only viable cure for hiccups, 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 just as long as you are willing to spend half your life hanging by your pinkie toes, for that's the type of torture I have planned for you.. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I go on another nightly tour to quench my vampiric thirst for human blood. I'd really like us to become acquaintances, 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 that I'm being entirely serious.
~ Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.
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