Dear Mr. President,
By the time you read this, I'll be in Iraq, serving in whatever ways I’m needed most. I fear that the military is the only way to make our relationship last, and seeing as you're a pacifist, I decided to join.
I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but I know what you're thinking: "Did he fire six shots or only five?" Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement I kind of lost track myself. But being as this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, and would blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself a question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?
I know this might seem like , well... inevitable, really,
to you, seeing as we made all those plans to hack into Pentagon's databases and expose the alien cover-up in Roswell, but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — at least so long as I remain high. I just need to enter "4 8 15 16 23 42" into my command prompt every 108th minute.
I want to tell you that I think you are my repressed masculine side, but I don't think we're right for each other.
First of all, we're not really compatible. You are possessed by Pazuzu,
and I am disappointed.
You like bungee jumping from church steeples, filling stuffed animals with ice cream, and arguing with the voices only you can hear over dinner plans,
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 other people.
But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I practice knife stabbing on mannequin dolls.
I'd really like us to become people that ignore each other in public,
if that's okay with you. I think we can do it.
We had some good times, before the psychatrist told me that you were my split personality all along.
Take care of yourself and never forget all the people we've killed together.
Bye,
~ Norman Bates.
P.S. I have two tickets to Men's Room and was wondering if you'd like to come with me? You know, just in memory of the good 'ol days? D.S.
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