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Featured version: 8 December 2006 |
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Saturday, September 19, 2026
Dear Gordon Freeman,
I know this might seem like a crappy thing to do 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 — sorry that I didn't take the chance to get rid of you last month, but I promise I'll make up for it the next time we meet. I just need to find someone who is male and breathes — and quickly. I want to tell you that I think you are the worst Tetris player ever, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are a satanist, and I am on my own plane of psychological existence. You like sprinting through morning traffic while on fire, bobbing for old tires in the East River, and finding out a random victim's e-mail address and subscribe it to every advertisement letter you can find, 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 each other sometime in the next millennia. 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 partners in crime and rob helpless old ladies of their retirement savings, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, way back in the 60's during Woodstock. Take care of yourself and never forget your true place in life (which is at my feet, groveling in abject obedience).
~ Concerned Citizen.
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