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Dear Mario,
By the time you read this, I'll be ill in Swine Flu. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but seeing you without makeup made homosexuality suddenly seem very feasible to me. I know this might seem like karmic kannibalism to you, seeing as we made all those plans to suck out the souls of those unworthy of a vampiric prowess, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — but another officer is at the door - I'll write more in an hour. 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 evil incarnate, 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 into bodysurfing. You like guessing the weight of elderly women, talking like Captain Kirk, and finding out a random victim's e-mail address and subscribe it to every advertisement letter you can find, 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 on Youranus. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever my herpes sores erupt. I'd really like us to become snobbish self-styled intellectuals who always change the subject to 19th century Russian literature in order to look smart everytime a third person approaches, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, my left hand and I. Take care of yourself and never forget how much lower your reputation will slip as soon as I publish this on my blog.
~ DJ Pie Safety. 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. |