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Dear John letter
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Dear Person To Whom It May Concern,
By the time you read this, I'll be having future visions of myself in April 29, 2010.
I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but no, I am not going to stop sending these letters just because the judge and my psychiatrist told me not to.
I know this might seem like a bit of a shock
to you, seeing as we made all those plans to push you into the sea tied to a large brick, but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — I think. 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 the unidentified person I ran over with my truck at 10:40 P.M. yesterday, 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 beating yourself up in front of a mirror, dressing up as yourself during Halloween, 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 in Hell, after killing each other.
But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever someone mentions the words "obesity", "fat" and/or "pig" in my presence.
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, or so we'll pretend.
Take care of yourself and never forget that the world is going to end unless you enter the code "4 8 15 16 23 42" into the micro-computer every 108:th minute.
Sieg Heil,
~ The Samaritans.
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