Dear John letter

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Elton John's left lung Tuesday, Octodest 1, 2024 Dear Acquaintance, By the time you read this, I'll be very relieved. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but I've misplaced my copy of Paul Simon's "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover" and I had to improvise. I know this might seem like a big surprise to you, seeing as we made all those plans to hold you so tight that you pop like a firework, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — I think. I just need to find someone who is male and breathes — and quickly. I want to tell you that I think you're ...good at Scrabble, if slightly obsessed with it, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You're a satanist, and I'm a member of a religion that has repeatedly confirmed that people like that are going to burn in hell. You like urine sample collecting, lassoing people on subways cars, and arguing with the voices only you can hear over dinner plans, 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 whilst standing in a deep fat fryer. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever there's a large car accident, and I'll wish you caused it. I'd really like us to become "people that ignore each other in public", if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We've had some good times, at least while we were in separate cells at the police station. Take care of yourself and never forget my amazing drilling skills, inside and out. ~ Jane. P.S.: Make sure the kids steal from the Co-op.

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