Dear John letter

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Friday, August 22, 2014  

Dear future amnesiac self,

By the time you read this, I'll be watching The Uncyclopedia Movie. 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 an unexpected departure to you, seeing as we made all those plans to kill your parents and claim the life insurance money, 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 to go to the moon or a gay retared place.

I want to tell you that I think you are dumb as a rock, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are the latest addition to my evergrowing list of people I'm planning to kill, and I am deaf, dumb and blind. You like wearing my knickers on your noggin, lassoing people on subways cars, and dissecting frogs with butterknives, 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 other species. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever someone mentions the words "seven and half", "inch" and "cock" in my presence.

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, at least when we turned the clock forward a few hours and then pretended that something nice happened during that time (whereas nothing at all happened, really).

Take care of yourself and never forget that the xenomorph implanted in your chest is going to erupt and kill you violently within two hours.

Tell your mom I said hi,

~ Tiddles.

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