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Tuesday, November 4, 2025
Dear Captain Blackbeard,
By the time you read this, I'll be almost through three more regiments. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but attorneys cost money, and I'm eating for two now, if you know what I mean. I know this might seem like a cowardly way of telling you that I ran over your mom with fatal outcome just 10 minutes ago to you, seeing as we made all those plans to kidnap a first-grade school class together, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — but if the writing's a but shakey that's only because of my helpless, loud and hysterical laughter. I just need more out of this relationship. Financially, emotionally, sexually, intellectually. Everythingually. I want to tell you that I think you are ...more than passable, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are a good-for-nothing crack whore, and I am fucked up for life after 15 years of heavy heroin abuse. You like beating yourself up in front of a mirror, huffing kittens, and belly-button sniffing, 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 other species. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I need a good laugh. 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, while we were three thousand miles away from each other. Take care of yourself and never forget that I'm much happier without you.
~ DJ Pie Safety. P.S. I poured some arsenic into your food yesterday. Shows what I think of infidelity, you unfaithful wench! D.S. |