Dear John letter

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Saturday, July 4, 2015  

Dear Passing Fancy,

By the time you read this, I'll be pushing up the daisies. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but it's not like I'm not going to kill you on Saturday anyway.

I know this might seem like a total violation of the laws of physics to you, seeing as we made all those plans to infiltrate the "Save the Children" organization and shamelessly purloin their charity funds, but I just don't see things working out that way.

I'm sorry about this — but another officer is at the door - I'll write more in an hour. I just need more time alone. No... More time away from you. All of it, really. Yeah. That's what I mean to say.

I want to tell you that I think you are a virgin, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are an atheist, and I am a Mousketeer. You like navel lint collecting, contemplating suicide (but always being so damned indecisive), and smelling 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 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 completely run out of other, far more important things to think about.

I'd really like us to become Siamese twins (we might have to undergo an extensive surgery for that though), if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, at least when we turned the clock forward a few hours and then pretended that something nice happened during that time (whereas nothing at all happened, really).

Take care of yourself and never forget to double-bag "Uncle Willy" from now on.

Good luck with the police at your door,

~ Bruce Wayne.

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