By the time you read this, I'll be feeding your pet goldfishes to my cats Hortensia and Petunia.I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but enough is enough. I've HAD it with these motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking plane!
I know this might seem like punch in the jawto you, seeing as we made all those plans to live together in happily unwedded bliss, or a reasonable facsimile, 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 to put this facade you've been living to an end, before I run out of script material. Ghostwriters cost a fortune.
I want to tell you that I think you are not as strong in the Force as the Emperor thought, but I don't think we're right for each other.First of all, we're not really compatible. You are a furry,and I am a mother of two-and-a-half.You like sucking off the black guy that mows your lawn,tripping on your own shoelaces on purpose just so you can blame the jews for it, andnibbling 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 — oh wait, I meant to write "hate" of course.But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I want to, which isn't often.
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, I think.
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.
Ceterum censeo Carthaginem esse delendam,
~ Your very dissatisfied penis.
P.S. Oops, I almost forgot to mention that you have brain cancer. See the X-Ray I attached to this letter.