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Dear Mystery Man,
By the time you read this, I'll be sneaking destroying angels into the button mushroom meal you'll be served within 5 minutes. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but you weren't at home, and anyways I forgot to bring my AK with me. I know this might seem like a big surprise to you, seeing as we made all those plans to throw the One Ring into the fires of Mount Doom in Mordor, 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 more space. Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan is sounding pretty nice to me right now. I want to tell you that I think you are a real pain in the ass, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are a Nazi war criminal, and I am a schoolgirl. You like imitating 50s actors while shoe shopping, harassing sheep until they explode, 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 just as long as you are willing to spend half your life hanging by your pinkie toes, for that's the type of torture I have planned for you.. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever and wherever. Just joshing you. You suck. I'd really like us to become road sweepers or something, 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 every time you see a rainbow, someone is having gay sex.
~ Your intestinal parasite. P.S. I accidentally dropped your cat into a bowl of hydrochloric acid yesterday. I'm afraid she got sent to the cornfield. Sorry about that. D.S. |