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Dear John letter
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Dear Flavour of the Month,
By the time you read this, I'll be stuck in a timeloop with no hope of escape.
I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but your voice is so grating that another few phone calls from you would have left me deaf for life by the end of the year.
I know this might seem like , well... inevitable, really,
to you, seeing as we made all those plans to cannibalize your family, but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — it's just a shame I waited so long to do it, and wasted so much of my valuable time. I just need a bit of a laugh.
I want to tell you that I think you are my repressed feminine 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 an amateur weightlifter.
You like traveling to other cities and show up uninvited at total strangers birthday parties, scratching yourself publicly, and genitally piercing unsuspecting strangers in unemployment line queues,
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 asks me what the ultimate expression of the ongoing cultural and genetic decay of humanity is.
I'd really like us to become old without ever speaking to, or thinking of, each other ever again,
if that's okay with you. I think we can do it.
We had some good times, nah; I'm just screwing with you.
Take care of yourself and never forget that I'm being entirely serious.
Live long and prosper,
~ Sailor Moon.
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