Dear John letter

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Thursday, December 25, 2014  

Dear Loser,

By the time you read this, I'll be spreading all your diaries around on file-sharing networks (scanners can be so fun sometimes, yah!). 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 disappointing turn for the worse to you, seeing as we made all those plans to destroy the universe, but I just don't see things working out that way.

I'm sorry about this — or at least that's what you're supposed to say in these situations. I just need more space. Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan is sounding pretty nice to me right now.

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 Nazi war criminal, and I am Maximus Decimus Meridius, commander of the Armies of the North, General of the Felix Legions, loyal servant to the true emperor, Marcus Aurelius. Father to a murdered son, husband to a murdered wife. And I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next. You like bothering foraging bears, huffing kittens, and arguing with the voices only you can hear over dinner plans, 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 virtualized Sim replicas of each other. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I forget what your name was.

I'd really like us to become engaged in a brutal medieval fight to the death with the good ole' armour, horse and lances (but only if I get to win), if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, at least while we were in separate cells at the police station.

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

42,

~ DJ Pie Saftey.

P.S. You forgot your dildo at my place when you visited me last Sunday. D.S.

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