Dear Cthulhu,
By the time you read this, I'll be banned from the Internet.
I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but I'm not getting any younger, and you're not getting any richer.
I know this might seem like an insidious scheme to dominate the universe
to you, seeing as we made all those plans to spend at least more than two hours 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 a bit of a laugh.
I want to tell you that I think you are exceptionally undistinguished, in a boring, non-threatening way, but I don't think we're right for each other.
First of all, we're not really compatible. You are a Democrat,
and I am a serial killer convicted for the deaths of 42 people.
You like laying on the floor with all the lights off, insult sword fighting, and nibbling off wires to public computers at libraries and Internet cafés,
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 as soon as possible, since the Internet connection on my computer isn't working, and I figured I could browse through your computer during our "date".
But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I need to tell my side of the story on Jerry Springer.
I'd really like us to become an African-American comedy duo,
if that's okay with you. I think we can do it.
We had some good times, I assume, in some other more cheerful reality among the infinite number of alternate universes out there.
Take care of yourself and never forget to have your pets sprayed and neutered.
Caió,
~ Tiddles.