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Dear Acquaintance,
By the time you read this, I'll be in Iraq, serving in whatever ways I’m needed most. I fear that the military is the only way to make our relationship last, and seeing as you're a pacifist, I decided to join. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but your needs are inherently less important than mine. I know this might seem like a very large malignant tumour on your L4 vertebrae (and to be truthful, it is) to you, seeing as we made all those plans to infiltrate the "Amnesty International" organization and shamelessly purloin their charity funds, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — well, sort of, at least, kind of, maybe, a little... 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 my repressed masculine side, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are wanted in nineteen states, and I am stuck in an elevator with Alessandra Ambrosio (OK, the first part is true, the second is just me daydreaming). You like sucking off the black guy that mows your lawn, pushing unsuspecting tourists off from very high places and watching them fall, 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 in the Future. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever someone asks me to define the word "retarded". I'd really like us to become engaged in a brutal medieval fight to the death with the good ole' armour, horse and lances (but only if I get to win), if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, before the police accidentally found the body hidden in your closet. Take care of yourself and never forget where you leave the keys. Honestly, those things are are a PAIN to find again.
~ Your intestinal parasite. P.S. Do you know what the blue rhino said to the green elephant? If so, write it to me in return, because I don't. D.S. |