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Saturday, November 8, 2025
Dear Ex-Friend with Benefits,
By the time you read this, I'll be selling my soul on eBay for 10,000 dollars. 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 slap in the face 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 more sex, and for longer than the 3 minutes and 2 inches you're able to provide... or was it the other way around? Anyway... I want to tell you that I think you are in need of some serious physical therapy against your hideous acid breath, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are possessed by Pazuzu, and I am on my own plane of psychological existence. You like sprinting through morning traffic while on fire, contemplating suicide (but always being so damned indecisive), and filling guinea pigs with helium, 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 when Hell freezes over. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever it is that I need to confess my most heinous sins on my deathbed. I'd really like us to become people that pretend they never dated, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, at least during those many hours of drug and alcohol induced unconsciousness. Take care of yourself and never forget that you are now statistically 50% less likely to ever find a lasting and fulfilling relationship during your lifetime.
~ The Samaritans. P.S. You left your Britney Spears album here yesterday. Heck, do you actually listen to that crap? D.S. |