Dear B***h,
By the time you read this, I'll be servicing your sister. I'm sorry for doing this but, it fulfills my sadistic fantasies. I know this might comes as a bit of a surprise to you - especially because I've been hiding at the bottom of a jug of Gallo. But I'm sorry – I just need a change. I think you're swell, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not compatible. You're a Scientologist, and I'm beyond that. You like long walks on the beach, you eat noisily, and enjoy Aqua Velva, and I don't like one of these things. Your favorite movie is Anything Steven Segal, and your favorite band is Whitesnake. Do you even know what my favorite movie or band is? I once asked you what color my eyes are and you said "Round". Anyway, I want to date an entire troupe of Chippendales. But you know what? I still want to be stalked. We can totally talk once a year . We had some good times, or so it looks on the videotape (even though I'm passed out) . But please, don't despair like last time. That means no committing arson. And look - I won't even make an issue out of the you owe me, or the fact that you punched my grandmother. So take care of yourself - and irrigate that chancre.
Peace Out,
Monica
P.S. Your box is nasty stank.
Yeah, and thats the end of that.
