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Wednesday, November 12, 2025
Dear yesterday's news,
By the time you read this, I'll be abducted by aliens and half way to Zeta II Reticuli. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but I know what you're thinking: "Did he fire six shots or only five?" Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement I kind of lost track myself. But being as this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, and would blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself a question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk? I know this might seem like a bit of a shock to you, seeing as we made all those plans to burn down our neighbor's house, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — but honestly, putting my hamster in the microwave was too much. I just need more out of this relationship. Financially, emotionally, sexually, intellectually. Everythingually. I want to tell you that I think you are composed mainly of various carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen, phosphorus, iron, copper, magnesium, sulfur, calcium, potassium, iodine, sodium and silicon compounds (well, duh...), but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are an epic fail, and I am a Mousketeer. You like flaying lambs, masturbating to gardening shows, and arguing with the voices only you can hear over dinner plans, 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 on Friday and then try to kill each other through strangulation (or with knives) just for fun. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I finally track you down and kill you. I'd really like us to become that kind of insufferable cinemagoers who've read the plot in advance and sit and yell out spoilers throughout the film to the annoyance of everyone else, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, or so we'll pretend. Take care of yourself and never forget to write down the number of every donkey cart that hits you.
~ Your alternate reality granddaughter. P.S. That was an Amanita virosa (destroying angel) you ate yesterday, not a button mushroom as I thought. Oops, I guess I'm really bad with mushrooms... D.S. |