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Dear John letter
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Dear Uncle Sam,
By the time you read this, I'll be zombiefied by a doomsday virus.
I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but you weren't at home, and anyways I forgot to bring my AK with me.
I know this might seem like an omitted chapter from Dante´s Divine Comedy
to you, seeing as we made all those plans to spend at least more than two hours together, 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 a..well...um...okay, nice...yeah...maybe, but I don't think we're right for each other.
First of all, we're not really compatible. You are from another dimension,
and I am a grue and will certainly eat you the next time we meet.
You like trying to fit inside sewer drains, pretending to be Captain America, and igniting your own fart,
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 my house is in need of some serious cleaning up.
I'd really like us to become partners in crime and steal candy from helpless little kids,
if that's okay with you. I think we can do it.
We had some good times, even if they only lasted a few microseconds.
Take care of yourself and never forget that every time you wish for coal as a Christmas present, you'll get porridge instead.
Adios,
~ Dalai Llama.
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