A Friend Remembers Saddam Hussein
What can I say? You have always been like a big brother to me. I have so many fond memories that I don't know where to start.
Remember that time in homeroom when you killed the substitute teacher because she mispronounced your name? That was sweet.
Or how about the time at the cake walk when you raped the entire PTA at knife-point? Classic.
Then there was the time that we played Jerusalem High in the sectional soccer playoffs. I still remember the look on their goalie's face when he went to make a diving save and then suddenly realized that it was not a ball, but rather a rocket propelled grenade you had launched from the stands. Priceless.
Hey, what about the road trip we made to France in 10th grade when Chirac's parents were away? Man. We drank all of his champagne, trashed his house, and gang-raped his sister but he kept talking about "you are my very good friends". What an asshat.
Anyways, hope to see you over the summer. Oh wait, you're dead. Well then, stay cool. Hmm. No good either. How about, try not to get brutally sodomized with a pitchfork for eternity while submerged in a sweltering, rancid pool of lava and pig entrails.