Dear John letter

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Friday, December 9, 2016  

Dear LeChuck,

By the time you read this, I'll be dead; not surprising, since I surgically implanted this letter into my groin. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but to be honest, I'd be more sorry if I were to stay.

I know this might seem like a big sick demented joke in a vortex of meaninglessness to you, seeing as we made all those plans to kill any infidel swine who refuses to submit to the ways of the Holy Qur'an and our great prophet Muhammad (peace by upon him), but I just don't see things working out that way.

I'm sorry about this — at least so long as I remain intoxicated. I just need to enter "4 8 15 16 23 42" into my command prompt every 108th minute.

I want to tell you that I think you are not as strong in the Force as the Emperor thought, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are an agnostic, and I am the one who slipped rohypnol into your Bloody Mary last month. You like caressing lamp accessories, stabbing yourself with carrots, and making faces at babies until they cry, 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 just as long as you are willing to spend half your life hanging by your pinkie toes, for that's the type of torture I have planned for you.. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I want to remember what suffering feels like.

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, before you decided to become yourself and get to be so much of a stuck-up prig.

Take care of yourself and never forget that I'm much happier without you.

Respect to the man in the ice cream van,

~ The Lord of the Rings.

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