Dear John letter

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Sunday, May 19, 2024

Dear insignificant other,

By the time you read this, I'll be burnt at stake by the Spanish Inquisition. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but my sadistic urges have become completely uncontrollable, and I don’t think I can see you again without having to torture you.

I know this might seem like a slap in the face to you, seeing as we made all those plans to kidnap a first-grade school class together, but I just don't see things working out that way.

I'm sorry about this — but I've been stuck in this nightmare world for months now, and writing this letter is my last chance of a wake up call. I just need a bit of a laugh.

I want to tell you that I think you are a Cylon imposter, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are nobody, and I am vastly more intelligent than that. You like harassing sleeping rottweilers, tripping on your own shoelaces on purpose just so you can blame the jews for it, and belly-button sniffing, 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 just as long as you are willing to spend half your life hanging by your pinkie toes, for that's the type of torture I have planned for you.. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever there are blue whales swimming in my goldfish bowl.

I'd really like us to become engaged in a brutal medieval fight to the death with the good ole' armour, horse and lances (but only if I get to win), if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, way back in the 60's during Woodstock.

Take care of yourself and never forget that I still have your diary and can at any time mail the most embarrassing parts (like the chapter about the summer of -04) of it to The New York Times.

Hasta la Vista Baby!,

~ A cast of thousands.