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Dear John letter
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Dear Bob,
By the time you read this, I'll be howling strangely in the streaming moonlight.
I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but I've misplaced my copy of Paul Simon's "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover" and I had to improvise.
I know this might seem like an Uncyclopedia in-joke
to you, seeing as we made all those plans to throw the One Ring into the fires of Mount Doom in Mordor, but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — but another officer is at the door - I'll write more in an hour. I just need to find someone who is male and breathes — and quickly.
I want to tell you that I think you are ...more than passable, but I don't think we're right for each other.
First of all, we're not really compatible. You are an agnostic,
and I am stuck in an elevator with Alessandra Ambrosio (OK, the first part is true, the second is just me daydreaming).
You like caressing lamp accessories, harassing sheep until they explode, and biking against red light at rush hour,
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's pets.
But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever someone mentions the words "seven and half", "inch" and "cock" in my presence.
I'd really like us to become people that pretend they never dated,
if that's okay with you. I think we can do it.
We had some good times, before we ended up in Hell together.
Take care of yourself and never forget that I'm being entirely serious.
See you in the afterlife, bitch,
~ [Insert name of author here].
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