Mr. Hulk,

Honestly, I’m not sure you can even read, so I don’t know why I’m writing this. Maybe you can wait until you change back to Bruce Banner to do so. And if that first sentence makes you mad, then fantastic, because I am a hot potato right now. I stuck up for you, and despite my girlfriend’s protests, I invited you to our dinner party. I thought that if given the right opportunity you could behave yourself. Instead you ate with your hands, smashed the entire table, and put two of our guests in a coma. Not to mention the flower vase centerpiece was a family heirloom.

Oh, and another thing. Just because someone politely tells you to wear a shirt to the table, does not give you the right to throw a temper tantrum. That is a perfectly reasonable request. It’s just common courtesy. You should try it sometime. And thanks for jumping through our roof by the way too. It’s always mature to run away from your problems. I had the privilege of cleaning up your mess all weekend, and now we have a sunroof that we never ordered. Don’t worry though, I’d rather buy a new roof than go on a cruise anyway.

Consider this letter, an official ending to our friendship. I appreciated you saving me from that alien invasion, but my patience (and wallet) can only go so far. Good day to you sir.

Your ex-friend,

Andrew