By the time you read this, I'll be at the Prancing Pony, waiting for the wizard to arrive.I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but well... no, I'm not sorry. Lying was always my worst problem with you, and I'm sorry. No. No, I'm not.
I know this might seem like a sudden changeto you, seeing as we made all those plans to adopt a child from a thirdworldcountry for media publicity, but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — or at least that's what you're supposed to say in these situations.I just need more space. Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan is sounding pretty nice to me right now.
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 an epic fail,and I am an amateur weightlifter.You like imitating 50s actors while shoe shopping,contemplating suicide (but always being so damned indecisive), andgenitally piercing unsuspecting strangers in unemploymentline queues,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 on other planets.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 an African-American comedy duo,if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, or so we'll pretend.
Take care of yourself and never forget to write down the number of every donkey cart that hits you.
~ (Jenny is being disconnected, so don't try calling).
P.S. It was me who assassinated J.F. Kennedy. D.S.