First of all, don’t get your hopes up. I’m sure you probably got all excited from the scent of my perfume on this letter, but I’m not writing this because I want to get back together with you. It will never, ever be the same between us after the things you’ve done. And don’t play dumb with me, asshole. You know perfectly well what you did. At least, you oughta know, but you’re an insensitive jerk, so you probably don’t.
No, I’m writing this because of my precious Mr. Furryface. Remember how we laughed and laughed when you brought him home that first time? I wanted a dog, you came back with a grizzly bear … good times, good times.
But my life changed, you know, the very instant you gave me that adorable cross-eyed bear as a gift. And now that we’re no longer together, you’re going to deny me of my best friend on the entire goddamn planet? What part of the word “gift” don’t you understand, Dave? What gives you the right to take my bear away from me? It’s not fair!
Besides, why do you want him for, anyway? We both know that, deep down, you never loved Mr. Furryface the way I did! That bear is like family to me, and I demand that you return him to me, this instant!
Please, don’t do it for me … do it for the bear. I bet he’s scared and lonely in your shitty apartment. Hell, you probably don’t even know what brand of salmon he likes, do you? I could have you arrested on charges of animal abuse if I really wanted to, but I won’t, because I’m not a giant prick like some people I know.
If you have any compassion left in that broken shell you call a soul, you’ll give me back my Mr. Furryface. And if you’re man enough, you’ll meet me at the park (you know which one, stupid) and we’ll do the exchange — my cross-eyed bear for your stupid Jackalope puppet that I stole from you before you left.
Don’t be late.
Oh, and I’ll see you in hell, clown.