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Dear
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F. U. That's right, I said it.
Why, you ask? You thought our love was for real?
Yeah, well last night I dreamed about Half-Human-Half-Werewolf-Sex. That's right, WEREWOLF SEX.
Whose fault is that? No one else talks to me about dogs and virgins and oh yeah, incestuous werewolf sex at 2:30 in the morning. That's all you, baby.
It was the most disturbing thing that ever happened, ever.
No, don't touch me. I'm so not in the mood right now. I feel dirty and violated.
And I know, I totally took your virginity yesterday (Mike/Misha for the win and you know it, baby!) and you thought it'd be all hanky-panky from here on out, but I have to scrub the inside of my head now.
You know what's bizarre? Somehow my father's gun room featured into it. Oh yeah, it was a human-werewolf-sex dream, but the bizarre thing was my father's gun room. And the whole time, my subconscious was screaming "Wake up! Wake up! Wake up, I'm gonna kill Casie."
And no, flowers and chocolates will not make this better. Let's talk about you loaning me your husband for the night and we'll see.
WEREWOLF SEX, WOMAN!
F. U.
Dear FList:
I apologize. I had to get that off my chest. Hope no one is scarred by that post. I apologize if you have werewolf sex dreams tonight. Trust me, it's not fun.
Now, excuse me, I have to go scrub myself with bleach.