I know this might seem like , complicated, bewildering, and kind of eroticto you, seeing as we made all those plans to kill your parents and claim the life insurance money, but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — well, sort of, at least, kind of, maybe, a little...I just need to finish that annoying Zork game on that Uncyclopedia website I told you about yesterday (it's driving me crazy, it's like no matter what you do, you'll ALWAYS end up being eaten by a grue!).
I want to tell you that I think you are my repressed feminine side, but I don't think we're right for each other.First of all, we're not really compatible. You are a balloon animal fan,and I am on drugs.You like flaying lambs,pushing unsuspecting tourists off from very high places and watch them fall, andsmelling your fingers,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's pets.But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I need a good laugh.
I'd really like us to become slowly solidified into a kind of buttery jell,if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, well, no... but no-one else has to know that.
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.
Respect to the man in the ice cream van,
~ The collective members of your band.
P.S. You are the one billionth person to read this letter. Click here to receive your prize! D.S.