Monday, March 12, 2007
I've written this letter countless times over the past several weeks. I don't know how else to say it but... damn I swore I wasn't going to cry- Jack, it's over between us.
I've been your trusty manpurse for a few years now. We've saved this great country together, in case you've forgotten. I was there when you had to fake your death and leave your whole life behind. I was there when you came back out of hiding and blew up those terrorists at the airport. I was there when you clutched sweet Tony to your breast and watched him die. I was there when you got revenge on Henderson, ontop of that Russian submarine. But it wasn't all business, was it? We had some laughs too. Remember when you screwed with that diplomatic plane's avionics by pulling on those tension chords? Dude, you're a wildman!
But it's been almost 13 hours since you've been back in the States and you haven't so much as looked at me. I'm The Jack Sack for crissake! Without you I'm just like every other olive-colored canvas messenger bag that anyone can buy (by clicking the convenient link on the righthand side of this wonderous blog!). The other sacks know something's up. They ask me "Hey, have you talked to Jack lately?" Or "Where's Jack been, have you two broken up?" I'm sure your friends don't ask about me... I know they never liked me let alone noticed my presence! It's one thing if you just manned-up and told me we were finished. But to wait here, in your locker at CTU... I don't deserve to be ignored.
I didn't want things to end this way, but you've given me no choice. Don't bother writing or calling, I'm leaving later today on the next Greyhound to West Virginia, where a nice crime reporter told me he's got a place for me in his home. Be good, Jack. You've always managed to find a way to do your job. I thought we could have had one last adventure together, but I'll just have to rely on some fond memories to guide me through this miserable journey called life.
-The Sack Formerly Owned By Jack