By the time you read this, I'll be tortured by Jack Bauer.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 big surpriseto you, seeing as we made all those plans to alphabetize our combined compact disc collections someday, but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — I think.I just need to finish that annoying Zork game on that Uncyclopedia website I told you about yesterday (it's driving me crazy, it's like no matter what you do, you'll ALWAYS end up being eaten by a grue!).
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 not even real, just a Sim character I created last week in The Sims 3,and I am that lonely obsessed stalker who refused to just settle for your autograph.You like smoking banana peels,tripping on your own shoelaces on purpose just so you can blame the jews for it, andfeeding rice to sea gulls,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 our respective parents, if only so we can feel unfaithful again.But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I need a good laugh.
I'd really like us to become bitter enemies, constantly plotting each other's downfall until one of us (preferably me) succeeds, giving that person (again, preferably me) the opportunity to engage in stereotypical maniacal laughter,if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, assuming that "good times" is just another way of saying "total suckage".
Take care of yourself and never forget that despite all the nonsense I've written in this letter, I'm still going to track you down and kill you.