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Dear Regan MacNeil,
By the time you read this, I'll be the first triple MILLION winner EVER in the NATIONAL LOTTERY! Yay. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but I finally got around to reading your "poems" this morning, and I figure that this is better than a bullet in the head. I know this might seem like a kick in the nuts to you, seeing as we made all those plans to kill your parents and claim the life insurance money, 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 men, on some kind of rotating schedule. I want to tell you that I think you are at least somewhat humanoid looking (which is about the only thing you have in common with mainstream humanity), but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are from another dimension, and I am a Mousketeer. You like groping fresh produce, huffing kittens, and biking against red light at rush hour, 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 just as long as you are willing to spend half your life hanging by your pinkie toes, for that's the type of torture I have planned for you.. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever there are blue whales swimming in my goldfish bowl. I'd really like us to become people that pretend they never dated, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, before the police accidentally found the body hidden in your closet. Take care of yourself and never forget to eat your vegetables.
~ Your favorite drugdealer. 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. |