By the time you read this, I'll be singing show tunes in the shower while members of the New York Yankees take turns exfoliating my buttocks with a loofah sponge.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 very large malignant tumour on your L4 vertebrae (and to be truthful, it is)to you, seeing as we made all those plans to kidnap a first-grade school class together, but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — well, sort of, at least, kind of, maybe, a little...I just need more men, on some kind of rotating schedule.
I want to tell you that I think you are ...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 are a Democrat,and I am angry.You like projectile vomiting,talking like Captain Kirk, andplaying King Kong with dollhouses in toystores (and going to jail for it),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 our own mirror images.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 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, way back in the 60's during Woodstock.
Take care of yourself and never forget your true place in life (which is at my feet, groveling in abject obedience).