Dear John letter

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Tuesday, October 21, 2014  

Dear Jimbo,

By the time you read this, I'll be in your room, stealing your socks. 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 sudden change to you, seeing as we made all those plans to adopt a child from a third world country for media publicity, 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 plot your murder for another week and I'm set to go.

I want to tell you that I think you are at least somewhat humanoid looking (which is about the only thing you have in common with mainstream humanity), but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are heiress to the throne of Rondark, and I am a mother of two-and-a-half. You like harassing sleeping rottweilers, recording your own toilet visits and sharing it on file sharing networks as MP3's wrongfully named as famous songs, and watching animal porn, 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 other people. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever someone mentions the words "anorexia", "bulimia" and/or "starvation" in my presence.

I'd really like us to become partners in crime and steal candy from helpless little kids, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, my left hand and I.

Take care of yourself and never forget that I know where you buried the body, and won't hesitate to contact police should the need arise.

Badger Badger Badger,

~ Princess Peach.

P.S. Give me five million dollars now, or I'll scratch my own eyeballs out. Just kidding, he he he! I bet you fell for that one. D.S.

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