Dear Bruce Wayne,
I have some news, which I think you will find Stripperific.
Over the last one hundred two million three thousand five billion years, I have found working for Wayne Enterprises both arousing and hard.
It's fair to say that Some dick is wooden and douchebags are disturbing, but this has not stopped me from finding the work arousing.
I have really enjoyed banging with Some dick and stealing kawaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii Reiner's filthy boxers from under Abby's bed. But all good things must come to an end.
As time has passed, I've found that my dreams of becoming Dick Grayson's punching bag have become increasingly frequent. Last week I took the plunge and bought myself lightsaberkeybumblebee. I dream of getting up in the morning and sexting, something that my current job fails to nurture. Now all I need is repleskbed and I'm almost there.
Thus I must resign from my job as a punching bag, to pursue my true calling as Dick Grayson's punching bag.
In your role as my superior, you have been the picture of sexiness, which is why I leave with a Stripperific heart.
Best of luck with your continued pursuit of Hell on Earth.
Yours sincerely Dickballs the Third