No, I don’t wanna get back together with you. Matter of fact if I had the choice between getting back together with you and having my left nut scraped out through my ass with a rusty pair of sewing shears, I’d lose the nut

And, no I don’t wanna kiss you because your mouth tastes just like your ass and your ass stinks believe me I know… the smell lingers in my fuckin’ car for three days after you’ve been in it

And no, I don’t wanna tell you how you look in that dress because I hate to lie and I don’t have the balls to tell you to your face that no matter how many vertical stripes are on that dress your ass is still fat

And no, I don’t think you should stop taking your prozac, your zoloft, your paxel, your haldol… why? Because they’ll revoke your parole from the institution if you start killing neighborhood house pets again

And no, I didn’t call you a pig. I called you a cow… a big mean fat unwashed cow that future generations will describe in stories to scare small children into eating their vegetables

And no, I don’t think you’re fat. I just think the skater kids next door say you look like Ernest Borgnine because… well, because you’re fat

And no, I never said you were a loathesome creature. I said that I hoped you would die in a house fire or choke to death on a fuckin’ seven layer burrito

And no, I never said you were pretentious and unlikeable. I said that the government should allow bow hunters to legally kill you on the next major Jewish holiday

And no, I never called you a bitch. I called you a fucking fatal ass tumor filled with shit maggots and dog vomit

And yeah...

I was in love with you

I adored you

I would've done anything for you

...but I also thought Beastmaster II was a good movie, so what the fuck do I know?