That letter you write when you realize you need an ex to pull off a heist, and to top it off, you have to lie about the clandestine affair:
Hi you (by now it’s possible his/her name lay forgotten on the floor of an old apartment),
I hope you’re doing quite well.
While we were apart, I came into some money.
Just a few million dollars.
It’s a start.
I also got engaged
to the Amazing Spiderman/Mary Jane
(fill in the blank depending on your orientation),
came upon a way to spin hay into precious metals
(I made a deal with a name concealer),
and created a videogame based on
the daredevils I’ve dated
since our breakup.
I’m not bragging, just keeping you up to date.
Anyways, it looks like the Central Greek Yogurt and Cheese Bank
(The place where dairy donors
store their probiotics for those in need)
was robbed last night.
Some say the aged creams are alive,
or maybe just undead,
perhaps even the vampire’s secret to eternal life,
and are willing to pay a high price for a sample.
Now I’ll be honest,
at first you were the prime suspect,
until we realized that one of Gotham’s super villains
is planning on using the creamy goods
to cover the city in a layer of savory frosting.
Unfortunately, as Batman is nowhere to be found
(something to do with the Bat Signal
misfiring on wall street,
or being required in the daytime
when spotlights don’t shine),
the task falls to you to recover the city’s dairy
in time to deliver to our network of milkmen.
Now, I must warn you, Dear Ex,
the blueprints to the vault look a bit tricky,
with guards guarding it,
but you should be able to handle them,
what with your backstabbing skills and all.
So good luck.
The dairy delivery folk are counting on you,
don’t let them down.