Dear Mosquito that I Killed at Around 3am,
Hi! Boy, I bet you weren't expecting to hear from me! Thanks so much for being so thwackable at the end, especially after the many fruitless hunting expeditions I embarked upon to find you. In truth, I didn't expect that you were going to be so hard to find. First of all, my apartment is small enough that you were basically my roommate. I was going to ask you to start paying half the rent. Secondly, after the quart of my blood that you siphoned out of me, I expected you to be the size of a sandwich, waddling on the floor, too heavy to fly. You can really hold your plasma, my little dead friend.
Well, I guess I'll sign off. I only regret that you weren't intelligent enough to have been terrified and in excruciating pain as I smashed you into oblivion (or into "bolivian" as Mike Tyson once said.) I hope this letter finds you in the pit of hell being drained of blood by creepy, little flying humans who have found their way into your mosquito apartment, and you have no idea how they got in.
Sincerely,
The Guy Who Will Joyfully Kill Any of Your Kin Who Foolishly Cross Me
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