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Thursday, September 18, 2025
Dear "Mr. Tiny",
By the time you read this, I'll be omnipotent, omniscient and omnipresent. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but this world simply isn't big enough for the both of us. I know this might seem like an omitted chapter from Dante´s Divine Comedy to you, seeing as we made all those plans to blow up the moon together, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — but I've been stuck in this nightmare world for months now, and writing this letter is my last chance of a wake up call. I just need to kick you while you're down, before the snooker comes on the telly. I want to tell you that I think you are not as strong in the Force as the Emperor thought, 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 all that and more. You like guessing the weight of elderly women, bobbing for old tires in the East River, and releasing frogs into preschool kitchens, 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 someone mentions the words "obesity", "fat" and/or "pig" in my presence. I'd really like us to become Siamese twins (we might have to undergo an extensive surgery for that though), 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 to write down the number of every donkey cart that hits you.
~ That Guy. |