For a long time I’ve been threatening to send letters. To whom, you ask? Well, to anyone—anyone who crosses me. I all but penned a letter to the owner of a guitar shop in Phoenix (Bizarre Guitar) whose extremely rude, leather-pants-clad, pathetically hair-metal employees talked themselves right out of my $1400 cash. Similarly, my angry note to AMPM’s corporate headquarters regarding the ridiculousness of their $.95 charge for use of a debit card is almost complete. Were I a little braver, my former high school math teacher, Coach Hawes, would be the recipient of a vicious tongue lashing put to paper, rebuking him for his many cruelties towards me (including the occasions when he pulled my long teenage hair and hit me). And I’ve even flirted with the idea of writing the Gilbert Police Department just to remind them that I think they are stupid.
However, these letters rarely get sent. Rather, I stop shopping at the offending gas station. Or I graduate. Or I make a pact with my wife that we will never pay a single tax dollar to Gilbert, Arizona. Or I participate in the extremely cathartic activity of throwing eggs at my math teacher’s house five years later. One way or another, I never end up utilizing the angry letter as a means of getting things off my chest—until today.
I recently witnessed two things I love, the Snickers candy bar and grammar, collide. I couldn’t stand for it and a letter was composed and delivered. (Click below for more details).
Surprisingly, the Mars Corporation has yet to respond. I’m expecting a phone call any day . . .
5 comments:
oh clint.
jaime kimball (grant) here. sister of your old gal pal chelsea.
i blogstalk you and i thought you should know. because your well-written, hilarious and thought-provoking post deserve a comment every now and then.
very good work sir. i am highly entertained.
oh clint. only a mention of coach hawes could draw me out of my recreational reading to post a comment. the thought of that man still, to this day, makes me see red. I remember the day he hit you. and the day he made carli heap cry. and the day we all had detention after school. and the day he told me that even though I earned a D in the class, he was going to give me a C because he didn't "ever want to see [my] face again."
if, in fact, you truly lobbed eggs at his house... I will be forever jealous.
I can't wait for the box of Snickers. If you don't bring me one home from work, I'm never making you orbios again.
I haven't been to AM/PM since the clerk short changed me $5 and refused to give me the correct change. That was about 7 years ago.
I hate snickers. M&M's rock snickers.
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