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Friday, October 24, 2025
Dear Uncle Sam,
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 time is money, and according to your most current bank statement you have insufficient funds to purchase additional time credits with me. I know this might seem like I'm into polygamy or something just because I have five wives at the same time, but I'm sorry about this — I think. I just need more men, on some kind of rotating schedule. I want to tell you that I think you are a Terminator sent from the future to kill me, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are a Nazi war criminal, and I am the creep who has been sending you human ears every Friday for the last eight months. You like laying on the floor with all the lights off, playing with your pasta meals until it looks like the Flying Spaghetti Monster before proceeding to eat it, and smelling other people's fingers, 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 in Hell, after killing each other. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I do sadistic things to your digital duplicate in The Sims 3. I'd really like us to become old without ever speaking to, or thinking of, each other ever again, 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 to have your pets sprayed and neutered.
~ The "I Like Cheese Monthly" Editor. |