Dear John letter

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Thursday, August 25, 2016  

Dear Dalai Lama,

By the time you read this, I'll be in ur pet store, huffing ur kittenz. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but your voice is so grating that another few phone calls from you would have left me deaf for life by the end of the year.

I know this might seem like I'm into polygamy or something just because I have five wives at the same time, but Elisab... Rebecca... umm, I mean Sarah, you're the only one who truly matters, I swear. Surely our time together must still mean something to you, seeing as we made all those plans to blow up the moon together, but I just don't see things working out that way.

I'm sorry about this — I think. I just need a bit of a laugh.

I want to tell you that I think you are a Cylon imposter, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are possessed by Pazuzu, and I am the creep who have been sending you human ears every Friday for the last eight months. You like guessing the weight of elderly women, big butts, and sewing extra limbs onto your body, 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 for the hell of it. It's not like we don't both have herpes. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I go on another nightly tour to quench my vampiric thirst for human blood.

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, pretending we're screwing someone else.

Take care of yourself and never forget the hard work of the ten million chained up monkeys with typewriters that wrote this letter.

Fuck off,

~ [Insert name of author here].

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