Dear Gordon Freeman,
By the time you read this, I'll be heading towards Mordor in a suicide attempt to throw the One Ring into the fires of Mount Doom.
I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but to be honest, I'd be more sorry if I were to stay.
I know this might seem like a crappy thing to do
to you, seeing as we made all those plans to infiltrate the "Amnesty International" organization and shamelessly purloin their charity funds, but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — but I thought that since I've now finally managed to track you down, it might be good manners to at least write one last good-bye letter to you before I kill you. I just need to put this facade you've been living to an end, before I run out of script material. Ghostwriters cost a fortune.
I want to tell you that I think you are my repressed masculine side, but I don't think we're right for each other.
First of all, we're not really compatible. You are an atheist,
and I am your father.
You like navel lint collecting, carving CD's into lethal shurikens with which to... kill people, and practicing surgery on household pests,
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 again, but only if we're re-incarnated into each other's bodies and I get to be "you" next time. Oh yes.
But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I sharpen my hunting knife out in the garage.
I'd really like us to become nihilistic Al-Qaeda terrorists and blow up everything that moves,
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 know where you buried the body, and won't hesitate to contact police should the need arise.
Beep beep, Richie,
~ The daemon swineherd in the twilit grotto.
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