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Wednesday, December 3, 2025
Dear [insert name of recipient here],
By the time you read this, I'll be in ur pet store, huffing ur kittenz. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but it's not like I'm not going to kill you on Saturday anyway. I know this might seem like a cowardly way of telling you that I ran over your mom with fatal outcome just 10 minutes ago to you, seeing as we made all those plans to slowly cannibalize each other one bite at a time, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — but I thought that since I've now finally managed to track you down, it might be good manners to at least write one last good-bye letter to you before I kill you. I just need more out of this relationship. Financially, emotionally, sexually, intellectually. Everythingually. I want to tell you that I think you are a Terminator sent from the future to kill me, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are an agnostic, and I am a nun. You like stomping on turtles after eating mushrooms, scratching yourself publicly, and biking against red light at rush hour, 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 just as long as you are willing to spend half your life hanging by your pinkie toes, for that's the type of torture I have planned for you.. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I do sadistic things to your digital duplicate in The Sims 3. I'd really like us to become partners in crime and rob helpless old ladies of their retirement savings, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, before you decided to become yourself and get to be so much of a stuck-up prig. Take care of yourself and never forget that you've only got one bullet left, it's going to take more than that to stop me.
~ Your future self. P.S. This is what the alphabet would look like without Q and R. D.S. |