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Dear tomorrow's headlines,
By the time you read this, I'll be howling strangely in the streaming moonlight. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but enough is enough. I've HAD it with these motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking plane! I know this might seem like a letter of indulgence to you, seeing as we made all those plans to infiltrate the "Save the Children" organization and shamelessly purloin their charity funds, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — but honestly, putting my hamster in the microwave was too much. I just need more cowbell. I want to tell you that I think you are my personal Jiminy Cricket, 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 a schoolgirl. You like laying on the floor with all the lights off, carving CD's into lethal shurikens with which to... kill people, and watching DaxFlame on YouTube while singing "Lucy in the Sky of Diamonds", 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 in Hell, after killing each other. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever someone asks me to define the word "promiscuous". I'd really like us to become people that ignore each other in public, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, before you decided to become yourself and get to be so much of a stuck-up prig. Take care of yourself and never forget that everything in this letter was a lie.
P.S. That was an Amanita virosa (destroying angel) you ate yesterday, not a button mushroom as I thought. Oops, I guess I'm really bad with mushrooms... D.S. |