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Featured version: 8 December 2006 |
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Dear you with that unpronouncable name,
I know this might seem like an omitted chapter from Dante´s Divine Comedy to you, seeing as we made all those plans to run the 3rd marathon around the world together (tied together, that is), 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 more cowbell. I want to tell you that I think you are really quite adequate, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are an agnostic, and I am Republican. You like bungee jumping from church steeples, dressing up as yourself during Halloween, 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 but only so I'll get another shot at killing your for real. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I need another scullery maid. I'd really like us to become friends, but I think that won't happen. I rather not speak to you again, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, while we were three thousand miles away from each other. Take care of yourself and never forget that your psychiatrist thinks you're a jerk too.
~ Norman Bates. |