 |
  |
 |
Tuesday, February 3, 2026
Dear Long John Silver,
By the time you read this, I'll be fucking your sister. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but it's not like the world isn't going to end on December 21, 2012 anyway. I know this might seem like a disappointing turn for the worse to you, seeing as we made all those plans to kill any infidel swine who refuses to submit to the ways of the Holy Qur'an and our great prophet Muhammad (peace by upon him), but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — mostly. I just need more space. Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan is sounding pretty nice to me right now. I want to tell you that I think you are like an impudent grain of sand, warring against a raging ocean, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are so fat that Jupiter orbits around you sometimes, and I am a grue and will certainly eat you the next time we meet. You like imitating 50s actors while shoe shopping, pretending to be Captain America, 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 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 I completely run out of other, far more important things to think about. 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, before we ended up in Hell together. Take care of yourself and never forget that I know where you live, your name and what you look like, so beware.
~ The Joker. |