I'm working on a proof. Ethan was writing a letter to his group earlier explaining something he was thinking about earlier, leading me to look up Uncyclopedia's Dear John letters (again). Here's what popped up this time.

Dear Sperm Donor,
By the time you read this, I'll be in Iraq, serving in whatever ways I’m needed most. I fear that the military is the only way to make our relationship last, and seeing as you're a pacifist, I decided to join. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but your feelings are inherently less valuable than mine.

I know this might seem like a big sick demented joke in a vortex of meaninglessness 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 — mostly. I just need to find someone who is male and breathes — and quickly.

I want to tell you that I think you are the worst Tetris player ever, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are wanted in nineteen states, and I am on drugs. You like smoking banana peels, lassoing people on subways cars, 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 our own mirror images. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I see a couple screaming at each other in public.

I'd really like us to become acquaintances, 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 time when I showed everyone a picture of your penis. That was funny.

May the Force be with you,

~ Princess Peach.

P.S. Do you remember that VHS tape I showed you yesterday, the one with a towel-headed man and a well? If so, you now have six days left to live. Life's a bitch, ain't she? D.S.