“This was of course inspired by Grandpa Simpson, and was supposed to be a wandering letter to some company. The continnuity needs a little work, and the ending is weak, but I’m not working on it anymore, so here it is.” – Erk
I am very disappointed in your product. These support hose itch like the dickens. I can’t remember when my legs have itched so badly, except perhaps during the war when I had that bout of keratosis pilaris. We were instructed to deliver message to General “Blood & Guts” Patton when my unit was attacked by a pack of rabid dogs. All our equipment was destroyed in the fray, and only three of us made it out alive. Hodgkins and Bull had been bitten and we knew they didn’t have long before the rabies got to their brains. They begged me to shoot them, but I couldn’t do it. In the end I had to hog-tie them both and carry them on my shoulders all the way to the military hospital in Innsbruck. When I finally delivered the message, the war had been over for two weeks. My whole unit received the Purple Heart for battling the rabid dogs, but Bull and Hodgkins never forgave me for not killing them. My lemon-aide tastes like Luden’s cough drops.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, I purchased a pair of your support-hose two years ago when my usual brand transferred their manufacturing to Korea. You’ll have to dig my corpse form the cold ground to put communist support hose on me! From the get-go I was dubious; I had never seen more flamboyant and frivolous use of packaging in all my life. The Quakers had it right I tell you! About everything except their fancy rolled oats that is! It all started in 1922, when the Quakers tried to get everyone to eat rolled oats instead of steel cut oats. We were driving to church on Sunday, and had our pot of steel cut oats boiling on the old flat-top so they’d be done by lunch time, when all of a sudden this fancy Duesenberg came roaring down the road kicking up a cloud of dust a mile wide. My mother and my sister were screaming “Rudolph, Rudolph” and then they both fainted. We had to stop the car and wait for nearly an hour for the dust to clear, and we were late for church for which we all got a solid whipping. When mother and my sister were revived, my father demanded an explanation. They said that the driver of that exquisite piece of American machinery was none other than the “Latin Lover” himself, Rudolph Valentino.
But enough of this idle banter. You’ve managed to change the subject for the last time. I demand a refund, or at least a tour of your new manufacturing plant in Seoul. I hear the Changdeokgung Palace is beautiful this time of year. If I am unable to attend, please send me photos at your earliest convenience. In closing I would like to thank you for the opportunity to express my opinion in a fair and open forum. I hope that awful meteorism has cleared up, as we will not be visiting you again until then.