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Featured version: 8 December 2006 |
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Dear "Mr. Tiny",
I know this might seem like a cowardly way of telling you that I ran over your mom with fatal outcome just 10 minutes ago to you, seeing as we made all those plans to blow up the moon together, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — well, sort of, at least, kind of, maybe, a little... 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 exceptionally undistinguished, in a boring, non-threatening way, 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 into streaking.
You like flaying lambs, playing with your pasta meals until it looks like the Flying Spaghetti Monster before proceeding to eat it, and smelling your fingers,
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 other planets.
But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I need to I'd really like us to become nihilistic Al-Qaeda terrorists and blow up everything that moves, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, or so we'll pretend. Take care of yourself and never forget the restraining order the judge issued against you.
~ Lara Bingle. |