Dear John letter

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Sunday, December 22, 2019  

Dear Captain Blackbeard,


By the time you read this, I'll be aiming the crosshair of my bazooka at your crotch. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but it's not like the world isn't going to end on December 21, 2012 anyway.

I know this might seem like a slap in the face to you, seeing as we made all those plans to suck out the souls of those unworthy of a vampiric prowess, 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 more time alone. No... More time away from you. All of it, really. Yeah. That's what I mean to say.

I want to tell you that I think you are the Mr. Hyde to my Doctor Jekyll, 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 into bodysurfing. You like forcing naughty school children to read the Necronomicon, filling stuffed animals with ice cream, and nibbling off wires to public computers at libraries and Internet cafés, 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 again, but in another life — preferably a previous one. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I wiretap your telephone calls.

I'd really like us to become partners in crime and steal candy from helpless little kids, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, unless I was just dreaming.

Take care of yourself and never forget that it's going to take more than a restraining order to keep me away from our children — they are mine too and I will not be denied them.

Pa Pa,

~ (name is not important as we are all so much more than our names).

P.S. I think I ran over your mom with my car earlier today. At least I think it was her, but there wasn't much left to identify... D.S.

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