By the time you read this, I'll be howling strangely in the streaming moonlight.I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but uh, well... now what was it again... (God dammit) Oh, yes, I was going to write to you because... because... ummmhhh... (hang on a minute)... I seem to have lost my memory so I'll just improvise a letter with no true meaning from now on, if you don't mind (which you'll probably do).
I know this might seem like a sudden turn of eventsto you, seeing as we made all those plans to vacation in the Ivory Coast, and smuggle bits of it home to sell on the black market, but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — but as a bisexual, I'm interested in only two kinds of people — and quite frankly, you don't fit into either category.I just need to engage in homicidal behavior on a massive scale. It can not be corrected but I have no other way to fulfill my needs.
I want to tell you that I think you are composed mainly of various carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen, phosphorus, iron, copper, magnesium, sulfur, calcium, potassium, iodine, sodium and silicon compounds (well, duh...), 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 41 people.You like sucking off the black guy that mows your lawn,scratching yourself publicly, andfilling guinea pigs with helium,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 but only so I'll get another shot at killing your for real.But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever the hypnotism I'm paying for wears off.
I'd really like us to become that kind of insufferable cinemagoers who've read the plot in advance and sits and yell out spoilers throughout the film to the annoyance of everyone else,if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, I think.