Dear John Malkovich,
By the time you read this, I'll be flat on my back, testing the Serta® 10 Year Mattress Spring Guarantee with our mutual friend Gary.
I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but my eyes have yet to fully recover from last week when your wig fell off.
I know this might seem like karmic kannibalism
to you, seeing as we made all those plans to enter the Guinness Book of World Records by the becoming the first couple ever to watch "The Cure for Insomnia" without falling asleep, but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — but as a bisexual, I'm interested in only two kinds of people — and quite frankly, you don't fit into either category. I just need to finish that annoying Zork game on that Uncyclopedia website I told you about yesterday (it's driving me crazy, it's like no matter what you do, you'll ALWAYS end up being eaten by a grue!).
I want to tell you that I think you are ...good at Scrabble, if slightly obsessed with it, but I don't think we're right for each other.
First of all, we're not really compatible. You are the flesh and blood scion of the Devil himself,
and I am your Siamese twin.
You like imitating 50s actors while shoe shopping, stabbing yourself with carrots, and you cannot lie, the other brothers can't deny, when a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist and a round thing in your face you get sprung,
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 someday, but only if you go in for surgery and get you brain replaced. And your nose. Or to keep it simple, ask them to change everything but your name. Or have them change that as well, unless doing so would complicate billing.
But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever Saturn orbits Pluto.
I'd really like us to become supervillains and plot to conquer the world together (after which I will kill you as there can only be one true Master),
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 time when I showed everyone a picture of your penis. That was funny.
May the Force be with you,
~ Your intestinal parasite.
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