By the time you read this, I'll be eating myself to death at a McDonald's restaurant.I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but I don't think I could restrain myself from laughing about what I saw last night.
I know this might seem like an insidious scheme to dominate the universeto you, seeing as we made all those plans to infiltrate the "Red Cross" organization and shamelessly purloin their charity funds, 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 to plot your murder for another week and I'm set to go.
I want to tell you that I think you are ...exceedingly punctual, 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 mother of two-and-a-half.You like stamp collecting,harassing sheep until they explode, andigniting your own fart,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 someone asks me to define the word "promiscuous".
I'd really like us to become theatrical actors in a Romeo & Juliet play, except we'll kill ourselves for real in the end just for the sake of realism,if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, during my opiate daydream earlier today, after which I woke up to the cold and harsh reality again.
Take care of yourself and never forget to double-bag "Uncle Willy" from now on.