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Tuesday, November 5, 2024
Dear Penis (with life support system attachment),
By the time you read this, I'll be burnt at stake by the Spanish Inquisition. 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 odd twist of fate to you, seeing as we made all those plans to slowly fade into non-existence, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — I think. I just need to find someone who is male and breathes — and quickly. I want to tell you that I think you are the true identity of the Zodiac Killer, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are an atheist, and I am your Siamese twin. You like forcing naughty school children to read the Necronomicon, huffing kittens, and filling guinea pigs with helium, 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 own mirror images. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I go on another nightly tour to quench my vampiric thirst for human blood. I'd really like us to become snobbish self-styled intellectuals who always change the subject to 19th century Russian literature in order to look smart everytime a third person approaches, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, up until the effect of the morphine wore off. Take care of yourself and never forget where you leave the keys. Honestly, those things are are a PAIN to find again.
~ The Speaking Clock. P.S. This is what the alphabet would look like without Q and R. D.S. |