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Sunday, February 8, 2026
Dear Freak of the Week,
By the time you read this, I'll be chasing your helpless grandma around with a huge fucking monster truck. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but I have stolen three nuclear warheads and am planning to commit suicide by detonating them (in midtown New York, just to spice things up). I know this might seem like a big surprise 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 — at least so long as I remain intoxicated. I just need more cowbell. I want to tell you that I think you are a..well...um...okay, nice...yeah...maybe, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are a good-for-nothing crack whore, and I am a serial killer convicted for the deaths of 37 people. You like toying with mousetraps, tripping on your own shoelaces on purpose just so you can blame the Jews for it, 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 each other sometime in the next millennia. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever the hypnotism I'm paying for wears off. I'd really like us to become engaged in a brutal medieval fight to the death with the good ole' armour, horse and lances (but only if I get to win), if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, well, no... but no-one else has to know that. Take care of yourself and never forget your true place in life (which is at my feet, groveling in abject obedience).
~ Concerned Citizen. |