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Featured version: 8 December 2006 |
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Dear Penis (with life support system attachment),
I know this might seem like a letter of indulgence to you, seeing as we made all those plans to infiltrate the "Red Cross" organization and shamelessly purloin their charity funds, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — but as a bisexual, I'm interested in only two kinds of people — and quite frankly, you don't fit into either category. I just need to find someone who is male and breathes — and quickly. I want to tell you that I think you are evil incarnate, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are a pedophile, and I am suicidal. You like navel lint collecting, insult sword fighting, 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 virtualized Sim replicas of each other. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I spy on you and your secret lover with the telescope from the treehouse across the street. I'd really like us to become engaged in a brutal medieval fight to the death with the good ole' armour, horse and lances (but only if I get to win), if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, before the psychatrist told me that you were my split personality all along. Take care of yourself and never forget that you've only got one bullet left, it's going to take more than that to stop me.
~ That Guy.
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