Dear "Mr. Tiny",
By the time you read this, I'll be living in your house and drinking your coffee.
I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but your feelings are inherently less valuable than mine.
I know this might seem like I'm into polygamy or something just because I have five wives at the same time, but Elisab... Rebecca... umm, I mean Sarah, you're the only one who truly matters, I swear. Surely our time together must still mean something
to you, seeing as we made all those plans to kill any infidel swine who refuses to submit to the ways of the Holy Qur'an and our great prophet Muhammad (peace by upon him), but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — but I thought that since I've now finally managed to track you down, it might be good manners to at least write one last good-bye letter to you before I kill you. I just need more space. Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan is sounding pretty nice to me right now.
I want to tell you that I think you are ...alive and breathing, but I don't think we're right for each other.
First of all, we're not really compatible. You are not even real, just a Sim character I created last week in The Sims 3,
and I am the main character in a really crappy pulp horror novel about rabid watermelons.
You like flaying lambs, huffing kittens, and watching animal porn,
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 when Hell freezes over.
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 nihilistic Al-Qaeda terrorists and blow up everything that moves,
if that's okay with you. I think we can do it.
We had some good times, assuming that "good times" is just another way of saying "total suckage".
Take care of yourself and never forget that I'm no longer in a coma.
Living is easy with eyes closed,
~ Your favorite drugdealer.
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