Dear John letter

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Sunday, October 23, 2016  

Dear lovely giraffe of a step-daughter with whom I have had pleasant Banana Peeling.,

By the time you read this, I'll be sneaking destroying angels into the button mushroom meal you'll be served within 5 minutes. 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 a total violation of the laws of physics to you, seeing as we made all those plans to drink the blood of every man, woman and child in Iraq, but I just don't see things working out that way.

I'm sorry about this — but if the writing's a but shakey that's only because of my helpless, loud and hysterical laughter. 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 unidentified person I ran over with my truck at 10:40 P.M. yesterday, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are the demi-duchess of Kumswalla, and I am a member of a religion that has repeatedly confirmed that people like that are going to burn in hell. You like having sex in dumpsters, playing with your pasta meals until it looks like the Flying Spaghetti Monster before proceeding to eat it, and practicing surgery on household pests, 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 each other sometime in the next millennia. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever someone mentions the words "ugly", "useless" and/or "stupid" in my presence.

I'd really like us to become jaded, cynical and bitter in our own different ways, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, way back in the 60's during Woodstock.

Take care of yourself and never forget that I'm no longer in a coma.

Living is easy with eyes closed,

~ Your intestinal parasite.

P.S. I accidentally dropped your cat into a bowl of hydrochloric acid yesterday. I'm afraid she got sent to the cornfield. Sorry about that. D.S.

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