Dear John letter
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Monday, September 22, 2014
Dear Flavour of the Month,
By the time you read this, I'll be the first triple MILLION winner EVER in the NATIONAL LOTTERY!!!! YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but I'm not getting any younger, and you're not getting any richer.
I know this might seem like an unexpected departure to 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 — or at least that's what you're supposed to say in these situations. I just need more time alone. No... More time away from you. All of it, really. Yeah. That's what I mean to say.
I want to tell you that I think you're really quite adequate, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You're a pederast, and I'm on my own plane of psychological existence. You like stamp collecting, contemplating suicide (but always being so damned indecisive), and belly-button sniffing, 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 everyone else in the world, just to find out the answer — or at least I should, you have no hope on that score. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I finally track you down and kill you.
I'd really like us to become "acquaintances", if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, at least during those many hours of drug and alcohol induced unconsciousness.
Take care of yourself and never forget I have the sniper rifle, and I know how to use it.