By the time you read this, I'll be a blowing rich, retired businessmen on a slow boat to China.I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but this world simply isn't big enough for the both of us.
I know this might seem like an episode of Days of Our Livesto you, seeing as we made all those plans to live together in happily unwedded bliss, or a reasonable facsimile, but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — well; not really. I just thought it'd sound good.I just need to kick you while you're down, before the snooker comes on the telly.
I want to tell you that I think you are the worst Tetris player ever, but I don't think we're right for each other.First of all, we're not really compatible. You are heiress to the throne of Rondark,and I am into streaking.You like caressing lamp accessories,peeling watermelons, andbiking 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 people without AIDS.But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I make additions to my personal list of people I intend to kill.
I'd really like us to become permanently estranged,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 write down the number of every donkey cart that hits you.