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Scottie. I’m here to confess my love for you.
I’m sorry that you had to find out this way, some days after your death in what was the most bizarre case of a duck drowning a human being. I say the most bizarre case because, as we all know, you’re danish. Danes have, on average, enough upper body strength to wrestle three ducks into submission, but I know not why or how, this duck managed to not only gain the upper hand but also utterly annihilate you.
The question that burns at the forefront of all of our minds is why, Scottie? Why did you allow this duck to defeat you? Was there anything we could’ve done to stop it? A pit forms at the very bottom of my stomach, a coagulate of despair and regret; misgivings and false hopes... It is a black tar which, with every passing moment, climbs ever closer to my broken, yearning heart until it has fully enveloped it. I wish, Scottie, that I understood. I wish that I had said all of this before, so that you could read this and see that I cared.
That I wanted you to defeat that duck.
That I loved you.
But now you’re gone, and I’m cursed to live on in a world of ‘what ifs’ and ‘I should’ve’, a world without you. A world that churns on, not knowing what it’s missing. I’ll miss you Scottie... And I’ll never love anyone quite as much as I loved you.
if it’s any consolation, I’ve killed the duck that murdered you. It’s hung up on my mantle, alongside the picture of our spring break 2014, you know the one of course! Where the sun is shining off of your sweat-laden muscles, making them glisten in just the right way? It was a nice one. Anyway, I’ll leave you alone.
With love, Sprockamite