I can’t keep quiet any longer. I am now making the breakup e-mail sent to me by Quentin Tarantino public. The world needs to know so I can move on:
Look we’ve had a great run. Because of me, I mean, we had a great fucking run because of me, Quentin Tarantino. We had a great run because you dated Quentin Tarantino. Quentin. God damn. Tarantino. I can’t imagine how great it must have been for you to date me. Well I mean I do, because I’ve had about 30 dildos manufactured to look and feel exactly like my penis, but regardless, it can’t possibly compare to the real thing, right?
I know you’re hurting right now, of course you’re hurting because you’re getting dumped by QUENTIN TARANTINO, I mean, I mean, I wish I could be you right now. I honestly do. When I make films, and I do call them films, Kaylee, because that’s what they were originally called, back in the day, before all these iPhones and Internet bull shit came along, I’m not sure if you know that, since you’re not a movie expert like me, but when I make these FILMS, I dig for inspiration as deep as this. I would KILL for inspiration like this, in fact I have “technically” “killed people” for “inspiration” before (don’t even bother turning me in, the Academy knows all about it and have covered my back ever since Pulp Fiction) and that has to be NOTHING compared to the heartbreak and trauma you must be experiencing from getting dumped by Quentin Tarantino.
The literally THOUSANDS of films you could make on this subject alone will undoubtedly be the most important fucking artistic endeavor and cultural examination of your generation. In fact, I will be demanding at least half of the royalties you make since they are technically my intellectual property. You, actually, are also my intellectual property too, as is anything I date, have sex with or masturbate to which is why Uma Thurman still is contractually required to star in at least 50 more of my films.
I know you’re going to miss me, the hour-long foot massages, the photo shoots of my penis, staying up all night watching marathons of my movies in my basement, but you have so much to look forward to. Just think of all the people you’ll get to tell that you dated Quentin Tarantino. And remember me not as the guy who broke your heart, but as the guy who has been nominated for four Academy Awards and has a helicopter waiting for him outside with his nudes plastered all over the interior.
All my love,