Dear John letter

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Sunday, May 1, 2016  

Dear future amnesiac self,

By the time you read this, I'll be married. I regret to inform you that there were a number of contestants for my affections, and you were not the winner. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but well... no, I'm not sorry. Lying was always my worst problem with you, and I'm sorry. No. No, I'm not.

I know this might seem like an episode of Days of Our Lives to you, seeing as we made all those plans to spend at least more than two hours together, but I just don't see things working out that way.

I'm sorry about this — but as a bisexual, I'm interested in only two kinds of people — and quite frankly, you don't fit into either category. I just need to find someone who is male and breathes — and quickly.

I want to tell you that I think you are a Terminator sent from the future to kill me, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are an atheist, and I am into bodysurfing. You like sucking off the black guy that mows your lawn, pushing unsuspecting tourists off from very high places and watch them fall, and watching animal porn, 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 Friday and then try to kill each other through strangulation (or with knives) just for fun. 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 supervillains and plot to conquer the world together (after which I will kill you as there can only be one true Master), if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, with that goat up in the Himalayas.

Take care of yourself and never forget all the people we've killed together.

Happy Thanksgiving,

~ The Speaking Clock.

P.S. Now I have a machine gun. Ho ho ho. D.S.

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