 |
  |
 |
Dear Azathoth,
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 to be honest, I'd be more sorry if I were to stay. I know this might seem like , well... inevitable, really, to you, seeing as we made all those plans to hack into Pentagon's databases and expose the alien cover-up in Roswell, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — it's just a shame I waited so long to do it, and wasted so much of my valuable time. I just need need need need need... well; I can't quite remember. I want to tell you that I think you are the worst Tetris player ever, 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 the creep who has been sending you human ears every Friday for the last eight months. You like caressing lamp accessories, painting your eyelids with pictures of eyeballs, and playing King Kong with dollhouses in toystores (and going to jail for it), 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 someone asks me why I'm such a cold, heartless, cat-owning woman (sniff). I'd really like us to become friends, but I think that won't happen. I'd rather not speak to you again, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, before the psychiatrist told me that you were my split personality all along. Take care of yourself and never forget to eat your vegetables.
~ Grand Admiral of Switzerland. P.S. You left your Britney Spears album here yesterday. Heck, do you actually listen to that crap? D.S. |