Dear Sperm Donor,
By the time you read this, I'll be trying to cut off my own legs with a toothbrush (just to see if it can be done).
I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but this world simply isn't big enough for the both of us.
I know this might seem like an insidious scheme to dominate the universe
to you, seeing as we made all those plans to buy a million rubber ducks for all our retirement savings, but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — at least so long as I remain high. I just need more men, on some kind of rotating schedule.
I want to tell you that I think you are strangely charismatic, considering your freakishly odd appearance, but I don't think we're right for each other.
First of all, we're not really compatible. You are a furry,
and I am deaf, dumb and blind.
You like playing Worms 3D, masturbating to gardening shows, and watching animal porn,
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 but only so I'll get another shot at killing your for real.
But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I forget what your name was.
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, at least when we turned the clock forward a few hours and then pretended that something nice happened during that time (whereas nothing at all happened, really).
Take care of yourself and never forget that your psychiatrist thinks you're a jerk too.
Sieg Heil,
~ (Jenny is being disconnected, so don't try calling).