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Dear John letter

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Featured version: 8 December 2006
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Sunday, January 18, 2026  

Dear "Mr. Tiny",


By the time you read this, I'll be in jail. Three hots and a cot, and the judge says I can refuse to see anyone I want, including you. Finally. 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 a letter of indulgence to you, seeing as we made all those plans to alphabetize our combined compact disc collections someday, but I just don't see things working out that way.

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 need need need need... well; I can't quite remember.

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 the flesh and blood scion of the Devil himself, and I am a serial killer convicted for the deaths of 42 people. You like beating yourself up in front of a mirror, playing with your pasta meals until it looks like the Flying Spaghetti Monster before proceeding to eat it, and accusing comatose patients of laziness, 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 on Friday and then try to kill each other through strangulation (or with knives) just for fun. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever there are blue whales swimming in my goldfish bowl.

I'd really like us to become old without ever speaking to, or thinking of, each other ever again, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, during my opiate daydream earlier today, after which I woke up to the cold and harsh reality again.

Take care of yourself and never forget that the world is going to end unless you enter the code "4 8 15 16 23 42" into the micro-computer every 108th minute.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year,

~ The itsy bitsy spider.

P.S. I poured some arsenic into your food yesterday. Shows what I think of infidelity, you unfaithful wench! D.S.

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