This letter is to let you know that I’m leaving you for good. I haven’t done anything good for you in seven years. It’s been hell these last two weeks. Your boss called to let me know that you quit today, which was the last blow. When you got home last week, you didn’t even notice that I had a new haircut, made your favorite meal, and put on brand-new silk boxers. You ate quickly and then went to sleep right away after watching all of your soaps. You no longer tell me you love me; you don’t want sex or anything that makes us husband and wife. Maybe you’re cheating on me, or maybe you no longer love me. Either way, I’m leaving.
Your ex-husband or wife
Also, don’t look for me. I’m going to West Virginia with your sister. Enjoy your life!
To My Ex-Husband,
Thanks for writing. Getting your letter made my day. Yes, you and I have been married for seven years, but you’re not nearly as good as you used to be. I watch so many soap operas because they block out all of your complaining and whining. That’s too bad it doesn’t work. When I saw that you got a haircut last week, the first thing that came to mind was, “You look like a girl!” I didn’t say anything because my mom taught me not to if you can’t say something nice. You must have thought I was MY SISTER when you cooked my favorite meal, since I haven’t eaten pork in seven years. I walked away from you because the $49.99 price tag was still on those new silk boxers. I hoped it was just a chance that my sister had just borrowed $50 from me that morning. I still loved you and thought we could work things out after everything that happened. That’s why I quit my job and got two tickets to Jamaica when I won $10 million. But you weren’t there when I got home. I guess things happen for a reason. I hope your life is everything you’ve always wanted it to be. You wrote a letter to me that says you won’t get any money from me. Be careful.
Signed, Your Ex-Wife, Very Rich and Free!
Also, I may have already told you this, but my sister Carla was born Carl. I really hope that’s okay.
