Dear hooker I slept with in Vegas,
By the time you read this, I'll be a blowing rich, retired businessmen on a slow boat to China.
I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but with your breath, a letter seemed the safest option.
I know this might seem like an unexpected departure
to you, seeing as we made all those plans to drink the blood of every man, woman and child in Iraq, but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — at least so long as I remain intoxicated. 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 dumb as a rock, but I don't think we're right for each other.
First of all, we're not really compatible. You are a Sagittarius,
and I am not the type of person to be running around screaming that I have a "relationship".
You like trying to fit inside sewer drains, harassing sheep until they explode, and dissecting frogs with butterknives,
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 our respective parents, if only so we can feel unfaithful again.
But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I walk past the ape cages at the zoo.
I'd really like us to become jaded, cynical and bitter in our own different ways,
if that's okay with you. I think we can do it.
We had some good times, which lasted until you unexpectedly woke up from your coma.
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.
Good bye and good riddance!,
~ The Samaritans.
P.S. You left your Britney Spears album here yesterday. Heck, do you actually listen to that crap? D.S.
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