All the Beautiful Ways to Say I Love You

Dearest one: This anthropomorphic, whorish piece of candy, seated on a bed of what appear to be torn-out organs (possibly spleens?) is wearing go-go boots, which I have mentioned are of particular interest to me in the bedroom. And she is beckoning me (me!) to come to her, and receive possible delightful pleasures at her hands (which shall not be soiled with chocolate, no, never). Note the look in her eye. I beg you to consider the many entreaties I have made to you—some mentioning marriage—and think about sharing a life with me. And my bed. Oh, my bed!

To my fat, porcine devil-baby. Words fail me. They fail me because you are beating me about the head and private parts with that trident you always carry in your trotter. Hand! I said hand!

Dear Valentine: My eye has falled off!

Dear Heart: You should not have left me at this untimely juncture. Do you not see how I will now kill you?

To My Valentine: The last 50 years with you has crushed my manhood like an old peanut shell.

Valentine: Your continued molestation has caused my nethers to shrink inward unto myself.

Sweetie: I bought you this "singing animated friend" because you have no "real friends" and therefore an "animated friend" is about the best you gonna get. At least it sings a damned song! Let it be a companion to you when you feeling all dark and dank and scratching your nads and eating Cap'n Crunch and shit (like you tend to do).

Baby: When I saw this robe I thought of you, staggering through the fog with a bellyful of gin and shattered fingers, and that old shotgun slung over your shoulder. Our lovemaking that night was sumptuous, as the bombs fell and you whispered: "Jimmy! If I only had a robe with a smattering of blue flowers, and a red pillow that bespoke 'love' on which to lay my head." So I bought it for you, dear heart. Sweet thing, why do you stare at me with such strange eyes?