A Brief Letter To My Future Wife.

*Powered by Fungah, who rocks my e-face*

Dear ____

I'm sorry I left the toilet seat up again, I know how much you hate it. It's only a small mistake though, right? It's no different from you leaving it down, after all, relatively speaking. I took the dog to the vet yesterday, while you had the kids at rugby practice, I hope it's alright. Remember that night in Paris, when I told you I loved you, and the stars sparkled like a celestial crown around the Eiffel tower? Well, the dog had a vasectomy. Ha ha. Just kidding. He's dead. Turns out he had an inoperable tumor in his brain. I thought this would be the easiest way to break it to you.

Remember that conversation we had, when you said that I needed to work on my conversational skills, and learn to respect your delicate, feminine emotions? Well, I've thought long and hard about it, and have decided you were right. I'm sorry. But not sorry enough to not tell you that it's over bitch, I know you're fucking the personal trainer again. Whore. THIS RELATIONSHIP IS FUCKING OVER.

I know you've been banging him ON MY BED. Do you know what bed cost? SIX THOUSAND RAND. And my gentle, thumping heart. Every time his dick slams into you it's like a penis shaped dagger through my heart. When I first heard about it it was like a million penis shaped daggers repeatedly stabbing my soul.

Oh, as you'll see by the mess on the floor I've shaved your cat and dyed it orange. Because that's what pain feels like _____, it feels orange.

Oh, kids, fuck you too. What have you ever done for anyone? I hope this house is attacked by killer bees and the undead and you have to go on some violent flight for your lives where one or two of you die (I'm looking at you Rick and Lucy) before finally thinking you've found safety only to die, Sameul L. Jackons style, like, maybe instead of getting eaten by a shark you get stung by a shitload of pissed-off bees, and the zombie tries to eat your leg but he only kind of bites you, and you think you got out scot-free but then some ancient shogun brought to life by an evil curse plummets from above and decapitates you. That would rock.

So, in summation: Fuck you guys.

P.S. We're out of milk.

Love, your future husband.

XoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXo