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Featured version: 8 December 2006 |
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Dear Santa,
I know this might seem like a sudden turn of events to you, seeing as we made all those plans to live together in happily unwedded bliss, or a reasonable facsimile, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — well; not really. I just thought it'd sound good. 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 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 a balloon animal fan,
and I am scared of donuts.
You like flaying lambs, filling stuffed animals with ice cream, and filling guinea pigs with helium,
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 again, but only if we're re-incarnated into each other's bodies and I get to be "you" next time. Oh yes.
But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I need to I'd really like us to become slowly solidified into a kind of buttery jell, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, even if they only lasted a few microseconds. Take care of yourself and never forget to brush your teeth. Oh wait; you don't have any, you toothless old fuck.
~ [Insert name of author here].
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