Dear Captain Blackbeard,
By the time you read this, I'll be stalked by that creep who calls himself Googlebot.
I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but my sadistic urges have become completely uncontrollable, and I don’t think I can see you again without having to torture you.
I know this might seem like an omitted chapter from Dante´s Divine Comedy
to you, seeing as we made all those plans to run the 3rd marathon around the world together (tied together, that is), but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — but I thought that since I've now finally managed to track you down, it might be good manners to at least write one last good-bye letter to you before I kill you. I just need to engage in homicidal behavior on a massive scale. It can not be corrected but I have no other way to fulfill my needs.
I want to tell you that I think you are ...good at Scrabble, if slightly obsessed with it, but I don't think we're right for each other.
First of all, we're not really compatible. You are one of Evil Bert's sinister henchmen,
and I am that lonely obsessed stalker who refused to just settle for your autograph.
You like urine sample collecting, huffing kittens, and finding out a random victim's e-mail address and subscribe it to every advertisement letter you can find,
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 people without AIDS.
But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever someone mentions the words "two", "inch" and "penis" in my presence.
I'd really like us to become that kind of insufferable cinemagoers who've read the plot in advance and sit and yell out spoilers throughout the film to the annoyance of everyone else,
if that's okay with you. I think we can do it.
We had some good times, up until the effect of the morphine wore off.
Take care of yourself and never forget that you are now statistically 50% less likely to ever find a lasting and fulfilling relationship during your lifetime.
Bork, bork, bork,
~ Yet Another Anonymous Sex Partner.