Dear Mr. Fred Savage,

It has come to my attention that you want to pursue Gyps for her love hence your commitment to the broad. I advise that you either back away from the woman I am ultimately striving to have or else you shall face the consequence of having the tip of my sword cane rammed down your trachea. 

Cease and desist, young lad, or else things will escalate into matters that are beyond the imaginable. For soothe, if you wish not to heed my advice, I request your presence in front of Gyps' winter house in Quebec at the eve of Sunday morrow. Quite frankly, the duel can be chosen by your selection, whether with revolvers or melee combat, so please do not fear to request something that may be deemed outrageous or rambunctious. After I slay you, I shall ram the tip of my sword cane down your trachea thus spewing blood all over my beloved Gyps, who will instantly fall for me. 

Once my beloved falls for me, I shall embark on an adventure with my Gyps and we shall tour the world, starting from the jungles of the Amazon to St. Andrews, where Gyps and I shall marry and have three beautiful children and a cottage by the river. Gyps will partake the role of being a housewife, willing to clean the dishes, wash the dirty laundry, and cook the dinner; I, the bold hero, shall partake the role of chopping the firewood and bringing in the doubloons to fulfill a typical family. Afterwards, Gyps and I will retire to Seattle, Washington, where we will spend our last days rejoicing over our fruitful lives and the day that I brutally killed you. 

My dear Gyps, allow me to present you with a poem: 

Her eyes were as blue as rain
Birds chirped as the hero
Approached the princess, waiting for her man to pump her
The hero lifted the princess into the deep dark night
Children were born and lives were had
Fred Savage weeped as Andrew lived