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Tuesday, December 30, 2025
Dear pointless entity,
By the time you read this, I'll be at Community Hospital, being prepared for a sex-change operation. Our time together made me realize some important things about myself. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but your feelings are inherently less valuable than mine. I know this might seem like a very large malignant tumour on your L4 vertebrae (and to be truthful, it is) to you, seeing as we made all those plans to live together in happily unwedded bliss, or a reasonable facsimile, 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 Jimbo, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are possessed by Pazuzu, and I am deaf, dumb and blind. You like playing Worms 3D, talking like Captain Kirk, and watching DaxFlame on YouTube while singing "Lucy in the Sky of Diamonds", 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 for the hell of it. It's not like we don't both have herpes. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I assassinate an infidel. I'd really like us to become supervillains and plot to conquer the world together (after which I will kill you as there can only be one true Master), if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, with that goat up in the Himalayas. 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.
~ Norman Bates. |