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Wednesday, February 11, 2026
Dear <insert name here>,
By the time you read this, I'll be saving a bunch of money on my car insurance by switching to Gecko.
I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but I know this might seem like an odd twist of fate to you, seeing as we made all those plans to assassinate the Pope, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — mostly. I just need a bit of a laugh. I want to tell you that I think you are a virgin, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are nobody, and I am on drugs. You like forcing naughty school children to read the Necronomicon, masturbating to gardening shows, and playing King Kong with dollhouses in toystores (and going to jail for it), 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 someone jokingly claims that there's a monster standing behind me. I'd really like us to become supervillains and plot to conquer the world together (after which I will kill you as there can only be one true Master), if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, at least before we met. Take care of yourself and never forget that Soylent Green tastes like spinach.
~ The Pope. |