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Monday, November 10, 2025
Dear <insert name here>,
By the time you read this, I'll be in midtown London on a massive shopping spree with your credit card that I kind of "borrowed" earlier today (the pincode is 8391, isn't it?). I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but it's not like I'm not going to kill you on Saturday anyway. I know this might seem like I'm into polygamy or something just because I have five wives at the same time, but I'm sorry about this — I think. I just need more sex, and for longer than the 3 minutes and 2 inches you're able to provide... or was it the other way around? Anyway... I want to tell you that I think you are really quite adequate, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are nobody, and I am a fucked-up loser who only likes to hang around you because of your money. You like groping fresh produce, dressing up as yourself during Halloween, 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 but only so I'll get another shot at killing your for real. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever my girlfriends and I are trading stories on our worst sexual experiences. I'd really like us to become partners in crime and rob helpless old ladies of their retirement savings, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, which lasted until you unexpectedly woke up from your coma. Take care of yourself and never forget that I'm much happier without you.
~ Your very dissatisfied penis. |