Dear Mr. I'm-Too-Good-to-Call-or-Write-My-Fans, This'll be the last package I ever send your ass, it's been six months and still no word – I don't deserve it? I know you got my last two letters, I wrote the addresses on 'em perfect. So this is my diskette I'm sending you, I hope you format it. I'm in the car right now, I'm doing 90 on the freeway. Hey, Bill, I drank a fifth of vodka, you dare me to drive? You know the song by Phil Collins, "In the Air of the Night" about that guy who could've saved that other guy from drownin' but didn't, then Phil saw it all, then at a show he found him? That's kinda how this is. You could've rescued me from drowning, now it's too late. I'm on a thousand downers now, I'm drowsy and all I wanted was a lousy letter or a call. I hope you know I ripped all of your pictures off the wall. I loved you, Bill, we could've been together – think about it! You ruined it now, I hope you can't sleep and you dream about it; and when you dream I hope you can't sleep and you scream about it. I hope your conscience eats at you and you can't breathe without me. See, Bill--shut up, bitch! I'm tryin' to talk Hey, Bill, that's my girlfriend screamin' in the trunk but I didn't slit her throat, I just tied her up, see, I ain't like you ‘cause if she suffocates she'll suffer more and then she'll die too. Well, gotta go, I'm almost at the bridge now Oh shit, I forgot, how am I supposed to send this shit out?