Sunday, July 12, 2009
To Mr Offline (Old unsent letter)
Dear Mr I’meversodisappointedthatyouareayetanotherpervert,
I liked you so much more before you became a pervert. It was at the point where you decided to cross that line that I abandoned any liking towards you. Why would you think to become gross would be an impressive feat? Why to sport your nonexistent neck or your woolly Neanderthal stomach ? My computer is acting funny for it may have viewed the entire download of your body whereas I closed the browser immediately. You are what? 100 years old, married and ugly. You haven’t seen your feet in 20 years. Yet you choose to believe I may consider what? I know my fonts may have led you on, especially the ones that stated "Hi how are you today?". I thought only as light hearted flirt. But to you it was much more. Much much more to the point of delusion. You were, in the beginning, a smart educated witty man–perhaps you still are to those who have not fell victim to your delusion. Now you are to be considered a deviate. A big hairy no neck cheating old weird deviate with no sense of reality. I am beating around the bush, but you sir are probably beating in the bush. Hopefully not a bush on any school grounds. Good luck to you in the future. I’m hoping you will find a partner (a willing partner) for your ideas. Your wife might be a good one for you. I’m also hoping that whatever you find doesn’t subject anyone else to your acts. Maybe you can find a perfect match for you. One who is also fat old hairy with no neck married cheating who is delusional and a pervert as well. What is sad and unfair, is you probably wouldn’t like her much. Maybe her husband will like you much instead. Consider Equal Opportunity Encounters. Or how about Lowered Expectations? Is there a Mutual Peeping of Toms? Obsessed Stalkers Meet Halfway Club?
I thought maybe I could just limit our chats but now I see I must omit our chats. Of course our chats consist of two lines from me, a good night, and 20 offline messages from you. In real life, do you ever even check to see if the chick is still breathing? Even scarier, is she even breathing when you begin? In your dreams, is she of vital flesh or sort of gray and purple? Any feedback from her at all? (muffled screams for help do not count).
The buddy who doesn’t reply anymore.