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Featured version: 8 December 2006 |
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Dear future murder victim nr. 48,
I know this might seem like a bit of a shock to you, seeing as we made all those plans to kidnap a first-grade school class 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 to kick you while you're down, before the snooker comes on the telly. I want to tell you that I think you are my personal Jiminy Cricket, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are heiress to the throne of Rondark, and I am a mother of two-and-a-half. You like laying on the floor with all the lights off, huffing kittens, and nibbling off wires to public computers at libraries and Internet cafés, 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 and wherever. Just joshing you. You suck. I'd really like us to become jaded, cynical and bitter in our own different ways, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, unless I was just dreaming. Take care of yourself and never forget that your psychiatrist thinks you're a jerk too.
~ Your alternate reality granddaughter. |