Dear John letter

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Saturday, April 25, 2015

Dear Flavour of the Month,

By the time you read this, I'll be dead. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but your feelings are inherently less valuable than mine.

I know this might seem like a slap in the face to you, seeing as we made all those plans to adopt a child from a third world country for media publicity, 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 find someone who is male and breathes — and quickly.

I want to tell you that I think you're ...exceedingly punctual, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You're wanted in nineteen states, and I'm on my own plane of psychological existence. You like fondling barnyard animals, contemplating suicide (but always being so damned indecisive), and smelling your fingers, 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 again, but only if we're re-incarnated into each other's bodies and I get to be "you" next time. Oh yes. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever my herpes sores erupt.

I'd really like us to become "people that ignore each other in public", if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, at least before we met.

Take care of yourself and never forget you are now statistically 50% less likely to ever find a lasting and fulfilling relationship during your lifetime.

~ The big guy, with the axe, in the cupboard, just behind you.

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