Dear John letter

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Thursday, January 29, 2015  

Dear voices that I hear sometimes in my head,

By the time you read this, I'll be in sunny Hawaii, drinking cheaply priced beer and completing my memoirs. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but with the restraining order and everything, I was scared to use the phone again.

I know this might seem like a letter of indulgence to you, seeing as we made all those plans to burn down our neighbor's house, but I just don't see things working out that way.

I'm sorry about this — but honestly, putting my hamster in the microwave was too much. I just need need need need need... well; I can't quite remember.

I want to tell you that I think you are perfectly looking, at least according to Neptunian standards, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are a Nazi war criminal, and I am a nun. You like guessing the weight of elderly women, dating circus midgets, 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 our own mirror images. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I've poured rohypnol into your cocktail again.

I'd really like us to become old without ever speaking to, or thinking of, each other ever again, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, I think.

Take care of yourself and never forget your true place in life (which is at my feet, groveling in abject obedience).

Bye,

~ Your favorite drugdealer.

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