By the time you read this, I'll be aiming the crosshair of my bazooka at your crotch.I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but I finally got around to reading your "poems" this morning, and I figure that this is better than a bullet in the head.
I know this might seem like karmic kannibalismto you, seeing as we made all those plans to run the 3rd marathon around the world together (tied together, that is), but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — it's just a shame I waited so long to do it, and wasted so much of my valuable time.I just need need need needneed... well; I can't quite remember.
I want to tell you that I think you are not as good looking as your MySpace photo made it appear, but I don't think we're right for each other.First of all, we're not really compatible. You are the flesh and blood scion of the Devil himself,and I am not.You like traveling to other cities and show up uninvited at total strangers birthday parties,talking like Captain Kirk, andwatching animal porn,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 in the Future.But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I sharpen my hunting knife out in the garage.
I'd really like us to become supervillains and plot to conquer the world together (after which I will kill you as there can only be one true Master),if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, which lasted until you unexpectedly woke up from your coma.
Take care of yourself and never forget that you are now statistically 50% less likely to ever find a lasting and fulfilling relationship during your lifetime.
Viva la revolution,
~ Name and address withheld.
P.S. You forgot your dildo at my place when you visited me last Sunday. D.S.