Dear John letter

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Friday, September 19, 2014  

Dear Rocky Balboa,

By the time you read this, I'll be saving a bunch of money on my car insurance by switching to Gecko. 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 disappointing turn for the worse to you, seeing as we made all those plans to kill your parents and claim the life insurance money, but I just don't see things working out that way.

I'm sorry about this — but if the writing's a but shakey that's only because of my helpless, loud and hysterical laughter. I just need more out of this relationship. Financially, emotionally, sexually, intellectually. Everythingually.

I want to tell you that I think you are ...unusually odorous, in a good way... sometimes, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are a pederast, and I am scared of donuts. You like bathing in gasoline, stabbing yourself with carrots, and nibbling off wires to public computers at libraries and Internet cafés, 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 on other planets. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever my herpes sores erupt.

I'd really like us to become a Heathcliff and Catherine-like ghost couple and creep out softhearted onlookers in our restless afterlife, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, but then I woke up and realised that it was just a dream.

Take care of yourself and never forget that it's going to take more than a restraining order to keep me away from our children — they are mine too and I will not be denied them.

See you in the afterlife, bitch,

~ The Lord of the Rings.

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