Letter 1

This week is all about letters, letters written to people who pissed me off recently. 

 This is the first time I have been saddened that there are only seven days in a week.

You’re probably wondering what happened to Reader’s Choice week.  Well, so am I.  You asses didn’t give me enough material.  So now it’s up to me.  Self-Reliant.  Ralph Waldo Fucking Emerson.

 That said, I hope you enjoy these letters.  More than that, I hope it teaches you that you don’t have to stand for shitty service, bad people, or assholes who think they can fill up a cup with a mixture of Coke and Cherry Coke.  And even more than THAT, I encourage you to let me know about your problems.  I’m a good listener and I will be happy to write and send a letter on your behalf to anyone or any entity.  I’m like that Troubleshooter guy except without a mustache or real passion for the work.

 Best,
Helpful Snowman

Dear Dumb Kids Selling Lemonade,
How dare you.  You pieces of shit.

First off, I just want to say that I would never have stopped on my own.  Never ever.  If it were just me, you could expect to receive anything ranging from a light kick (should I be riding by on my motorcycle) to a large Wendy’s bag full of trash flying at you (should I be in my car).

However, I was with my girlfriend.

You really hit on a racket there, you fucking assholes.  Just like fancy restaurants, bums who sell roses, and motherfuckers who take your picture without asking and then try to get you to buy it, you take advantage of men who are trying to not look cheap.  That’s a bullshit business tactic, by the way.  I can’t wait until I’m older and unhappy(er) and can just say, “Once your on your third marriage you just forget about impressing anyone, so how about you keep that shitty picture in that horrible cardboard frame and hang it up as a warning to yourself to never end up like this.”  And has anyone’s best dining experience been their most expensive one?  My best dining experience was an entire bag of Salsitas, drunk.  Even if you include the price of whiskey, that’s a hell of a lot cheaper than eating at the goddamn Space Needle.

But let’s get back to your little lemonade conglomerate.

We’re pulling up to the driveway and I’m saying, “This is going to be Country Time.  I know this is going to be Country Time.”  I expected it, so it lessens the blow, but how could you not fucking take the big canister of yellow powder off the driveway?  It was sitting right there.  We had to walk right fucking past it and then say, without making air quotes, that we would like a lemonade.  At least disguise it.  Put the fucking canister inside and invest in one real lemon that you set on the table.  Jesus Christ, when you go to Red Lobster they don’t just drop packages of imitation crab in the lobster tank for everyone to see.

And while we’re talking presentation, how about a table?  How about not just a cooler on the driveway?  It’s called health codes, bitch.

We pay two dollars.  I’m not going to even get into the price gouging there.  We pay two dollars and you take out a pitcher of what appears to be pee that was peed out by a man as his last act before dying of radiation poisoning.  It was so thick, and so bright yellow.  It was like you had water in the pitcher and then colored the outside with yellow highlighter.

            We get back in the car and I go to drink it.  “You’re drinking it?” my girlfriend says.

            Let’s stop right there.  Nobody drives through Starbucks, and seconds after paying and passing the window, says, “You’re drinking that?”  That is the hallmark of a shitty product.  And by the way, Hallmark is the hallmark of a shitty product as well.  She said I should just dump it out.  Dump it out?  That would be great because we would create the first residential street to have cavities, dental cavities.

            I would describe the flavor, but it’s not really a flavor so much as the feeling of a large man sitting on your chest and squeezing your head as hard as he can.  It was so fucking sweet that my teeth shattered into tiny little shards that penetrated my bloodstream and perforated my brain.  It was like watching Pink Floyd’s the Wall or an episode of Rocko’s Modern Life.

            Have you ever tasted lemonade, as in the squeezings from the fruit known as a lemon with SOME sugar added for taste?  Because this concoction was not lemonade.  This was a health class lesson where the teacher makes you try to eat the amount of sugar that’s in a Mountain Dew until you start crying to prove that it’s something you should never consume.  I suggest you try some actual lemonade.  I also suggest you try mixing Tang so thick that it’s hard to stir and then compare that to the flavor of orange juice, just because I suspect your entire fruit perspective is off.

            Overall, you fucked me out of two dollars.  Fucked me big time.  For two dollars I got two undrinkable drinks, two styrofoam cups which will hopefully destroy the environment before we waste money sending you to business school, and a complete waste of time walking in the heat.  Thanks a shitload, and I hope your parents lost $4,000 in Country Time and ice cube costs.

Best,
Helpful Snowman