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Tuesday, February 10, 2026
Dear Dalai Lama,
By the time you read this, I'll be mutated into something unrecognizable. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but you win some, you lose some - and in your case, you lose everything. 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 — but I thought that since I've now finally managed to track you down, it might be good manners to at least write one last good-bye letter to you before I kill you. I just need more cowbell. I want to tell you that I think you are my repressed feminine side, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are a Sagittarius, and I am an Uncyclopedia in-joke. You like fondling barnyard animals, talking like Captain Kirk, and gas tungsten arc welding, 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 our respective parents, if only so we can feel unfaithful again. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I make additions to my personal list of people I intend to kill. I'd really like us to become theatrical actors in a Romeo & Juliet play, except we'll kill ourselves for real in the end just for the sake of realism, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, before the psychiatrist told me that you're just a figment of my imagination. Take care of yourself and never forget that everything in this letter was a lie.
~ (Jenny is being disconnected, so don't try calling). |