Dear John letter

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Saturday, May 28, 2016  

Dear [insert name of recipient here],

By the time you read this, I'll be spreading all your diaries around on file-sharing networks (scanners can be so fun sometimes, yah!). I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but it's not like the world isn't going to end on December 21, 2012 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 trade all our remaining STDs even-steven, but I just don't see things working out that way.

I'm sorry about this — but I've been stuck in this nightmare world for months now, and writing this letter is my last chance of a wake up call. I just need more cowbell.

I want to tell you that I think you are like a senile old parrot, 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 Mousketeer. You like bathing in gasoline, stabbing yourself with carrots, and smelling your 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 other species. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I walk past the ape cages at the zoo.

I'd really like us to become acquaintances, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, before the psychatrist told me that you're just a figment of my imagination.

Take care of yourself and never forget that time when I showed everyone a picture of your penis. That was funny.

Adios,

~ Everyone else.

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