Dear Jane

Dear Jane,
I don't know quite how to tell you this, but our hororscopes clash.
I think I first knew it when your sheepdog went berserk at the Hare Krishna prom, and I saw you punch out my spinach souffle. I'm sure you're gutless enough to see that "The Gong Show" stinks.
I'm returning your Darth Vader poster, but I'm holding on to my sanity as a keepsake. I want you to know that I'll tell my priest about your eggplant fetish.
With great relief,
Rupert
.