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Thursday, February 5, 2026
Dear
By the time you read this, I'll be fucking your sister. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but enough is enough. I've HAD it with these motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking plane! I know this might seem like a disappointing turn for the worse to you, seeing as we made all those plans to destroy the universe, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — but another officer is at the door - I'll write more in an hour. I just need to find someone who is male and breathes — and quickly. I want to tell you that I think you are like a senile old parrot, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are under surveillance by the CIA, and I am fucked up for life after 15 years of heavy heroin abuse. You like to sabotage ice hockey matches by repeatedly throwing out extra pucks onto the rink, dressing up as yourself during Halloween, 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 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 I've consumed rohypnol and Vodka. I'd really like us to become nihilistic Al-Qaeda terrorists and blow up everything that moves, 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 I'm being entirely serious.
~ Alan Smithee. P.S. This is what the alphabet would look like without Q and R. D.S. |