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Featured version: 8 December 2006 |
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Dear Cthulhu,
I know this might seem like a slap in the face 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 — I think. 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 Nazi war criminal, and I am that lonely obsessed stalker who refused to just settle for your autograph. You like stamp collecting, talking like Captain Kirk, and making faces at babies until they cry, 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 Friday and then try to kill each other through strangulation (or with knives) just for fun. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever the police ask me where I bought the stuff. 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, up until the effect of the morphine wore off. Take care of yourself and never forget to brush your teeth. Oh wait; you don't have any, you toothless old fuck.
~ The Samaritans.
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