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Friday, February 6, 2026
Dear pointless entity,
By the time you read this, I'll be converting my house into an undead bastion. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but to be honest, I'd be more sorry if I were to stay. I know this might seem like an Uncyclopedia in-joke to you, seeing as we made all those plans to drink the blood of every man, woman and child in Iraq, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — but honestly, putting my hamster in the microwave was too much. I just need to engage in homicidal behavior on a massive scale. It can not be corrected but I have no other way to fulfill my needs. 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 a satanist, and I am scared of donuts. You like stamp collecting, putting things on springs, and igniting your own fart, 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've consumed rohypnol and Vodka. I'd really like us to become the de facto lead couple in one of those crappy never ending sitcoms that plays annoying canned laughter after every damn sentence, be it funny or not, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, nah; I'm just screwing with you. Take care of yourself and never forget that everything in this letter was a lie.
P.S. Can I borrow 5 bucks? D.S. |