Dear Spleens McDonald, I hope my letter finds you in good health.
But you might want to lay down before reading on ahead regardless, for I fear I may have just discovered something really big. Bigger than either of us could have imagined or could possibly handle: Life is probably, like, meaningless and stuff, I guess? I don't know lol
haha
Anyways, I'll see you in hell, you glazed turd with sprinkles.
Scranularly yours, Henrietta Arseface Poobum-Hæferblæte III, nuggetflusher general and goat botherer by appointment of Her Majesty, Nasty Majesty since 1486.