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Tuesday, February 10, 2026
Dear God I can't believe I'll soon be rid of you at long last,
By the time you read this, I'll be sipping butane martinis on the way to Nicaragua. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but attorneys cost money, and I'm eating for two now, if you know what I mean. I know this might seem like an unexpected departure to you, seeing as we made all those plans to kidnap a first-grade school class together, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — it's just a shame I waited so long to do it, and wasted so much of my valuable time. I just need need need need need... well; I can't quite remember. I want to tell you that I think you are evil incarnate, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are not even real, just a Sim character I created last week in The Sims 3, and I am scared of donuts. You like stamp collecting, 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 for the hell of it. It's not like we don't both have herpes. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever someone mentions the words "anorexia", "bulimia" and/or "starvation" in my presence. I'd really like us to become nihilistic Al-Qaeda terrorists and blow up everything that moves, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, which lasted until you unexpectedly woke up from your coma. Take care of yourself and never forget that I have your son and will kill him unless you transfer five million dollars to my bank account by next Thursday.
~ The itsy bitsy spider. |