To: Mike's ex-pancreas

Well, the joke is on me, Pancreas. You sure got the best of old Mike. I gotta hand it to you; you are living a life that I, and I'm sure millions of other people, would love to have. You've worked out a perfect system, wherein you live warm, rent-free, sharing ample living space with my gallbladder and my bile duct, who both pull their own weight and do very nice work by the way. But you, Pancreas, have one of the cushiest lives ever since you and those free-loading exocrine tissue friends of yours decided to quit your full-time jobs with the biliary system and not produce my insulin for me anymore.

Now brace yourself, for I've thought this through and have made a decision; I want a divorce. I'm sorry. We've had some wonderful times together, I know. But I have to do what's best for me, and right now I... I just don't think you're it, and I think you know that. You don't have to move out. You've been neighbors with my small intestine ever since I can remember and I know you two have become good friends. He still talks about you a lot; "Remember the deep fried Snickers bar?" he'd say, and then add "Pancy didn't know what the hell he was doing!". Then we all laughed. He always called you Pancy. It was really cute. But these happy memories are no excuse for how you acted, and I intend to take back what's mine. Now, you can have the pancreatic duct, but I am keeping the kidneys, the duodenum and the Hot Shots DVD. We will discuss more of the details when our lawyers are present.

For a while I was thinking of changing my name so nobody would directly associate you with me anymore, but I realized that was just silly. I think YOU should be the one to change your name. I don't want you to be Mike's Pancreas anymore. How about "Arthur P. Ancreas" or maybe "Pancston Von Lackin Insulinstein" or "Hanky Panky" or "Jim". I don't know. It's your choice.

I'll miss you, Pancy. And I'll always remember the good times, but don't take that to mean that I've forgiven you so easily. Have a good life, you old so-and-so.

Yours truly,

Michael D. Thole