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Dear Suicide Bomber,              

                  Mama always said you weren’t real. She said you were like Santa Claus, or Harry Potter, or Kim Kardashian’s ass. But after seeing your work caught on video she’s like so without speech and stuff. And I’m like so squeaking thankful to all our TV channels for showing such graphic and kick-ass violence without any kind of restraint whatsoever. My little nephew was lucky enough to catch it and now he wants to be just like you- the belt bombs, splattered brains and everything. I would specially like to thank Times Now who just the other day was thrashing the rest of the channels for not being sensitive enough to pixellate a naked assaulted adivasi woman’s face. I think they are so not pretentious and hypocritical.
                I’ve always been like super-curious about how you make up your mind to take up such a smart career choice. I mean like I understand it may not be as adventurous or stimulating as being an English teacher in Sudan or a BPO worker in India but I would so like to know what inspired you to be who you are today. Was it the availability of a platform to get across to a lot of people at the same time? Or the chance to play Holi with your intestines? Perhaps, it was just the obvious glamour that came with the job. Anyways, you’ve always managed to totally blow my mind off.
                 The other day a close friend of mine, she’s like my soul mate and all, made a joke about you. She asked me: “What happened to the failed suicide bomber?” And when I said I didn’t know she said like: “He didn’t bomb”. Then another day she asked me: “Why would it really stink for Abishek Bachchan to be a suicide bomber?” And again I didn’t like know what the answer was and stuff so I told her that I didn’t like know the answer and stuff. So she replied: “Cuz he’s so full of shit”. That really was all I could take so I inserted a Nokia phone up her ass and recharged it until she blew up. I know you’re a faint-hearted person and I’m sorry I had to like say that to you but I just can’t take it when anybody defiles your name. Although, I was made an honorary Muslim fundamentalist after my actions. My extremist name is Sheikh Yost Uf.
                One Sunday I was just doing what I always do on a Sunday, which is watch Homicide Homies on DD-1 (Daily Death 1). And I heard someone say all your relationships are extremely short-lived. Is that true? I think it’s cool that you’re into playing the field. It’s better than getting into some relationship that just makes you want to kill yourself. I also heard on Homicide Homies that you are like super good in bed. Is it because you know how to explode at the most appropriate time? Anyways, you’re a rock star in my book. Like Kurt Cobain.
                I won’t lie to you, I’m a little sad. Because one of my buddies said like the other day that you’re not like a good person and all. And that you do what you do to hurt other innocent people. I mean like I didn’t believe him or nothing because I know that’s like untrue. If you wanted to hurt innocent unsuspecting people you would have like just become a politician or a model turned actor.
               I’m super sorry if I intruded into your personal time and stuff. But I just couldn’t like resist writing to you. I know your apartment must be like totally messy with all my previous letters and stuff. You know I like totally admire you and everything but there’s something that just keeps nagging at the back of my head and stuff. Something that even made me think if I should like send you a letter bomb or something. I mean like I won’t. But I just feel so mad and everything, you know. Alright, I’m just gonna go ahead and say it. Here goes.
                I’ve sent so many letters to you but I’ve never ever gotten a single reply . I mean, like, seriously, would it kill you to write me back?

Your hugest fan