Dear John letter

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Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Dear <insert name here>,

By the time you read this, I'll be in sunny Zurich, drinking extortionately priced beer and completing my memoirs. 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 crappy thing to do to you, seeing as we made all those plans to visit Easter Island and go on an egg hunt, but I just don't see things working out that way.

I'm sorry about this — but another officer as it the door - I'll write more in an hour. 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're ...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're scared of sheep, and I'm a champion pie eating finalist. You like fondling barnyard animals, talking like Captain Kirk, and practicing surgery on household pests, 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 different continents. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever the hypnotism I'm paying for wears off.

I'd really like us to become slowly solidified into a kind of buttery jell, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, or so we'll pretend.

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.

~ Sheila (my street name).

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