No More Laffs
I address you in a public forum, but I nurse a private wound. Indeed, so grievous is my pain that once again I have stilled the rivers of fudge and shuttered my factory. I can do nothing now but lie in bed in utter darkness and await death, my basic needs attended to by a single Oompa Loompa, who is either the most loyal of my beloved employees or the only survivor of the cannibalism that spread among his people after I ceased their ration of cocoa beans. I do not know, and since your brutal betrayal, I no longer care.
The betrayal to which I refer is, of course, your hit single "Laffy Taffy." I admit that when your representatives approached me about this project, I was excited. It is no secret that the Laffy Taffy brand has suffered recently. I myself don't understand why. Charlie says that Laffy Taffy has lost its edge, that children think the jokes inside the wrappers "lame." But how can you not guffaw at "Where did the kittens go on the class trip? To the meow-seum." I want to chuckle now, but I fear that the laughter would further bruise my battered soul.
I digress. I was excited, and when Charlie and I flew to Atlanta to see you perform what your representatives promised was the final version of "Laffy Taffy," I couldn't have been more pleased! The beat was marvelously phat, the lyrics delightful. I was particularly touched by this rival-hating couplet: "Wonka, D4L, we so thick/Hershey's orphans can suck our dicks." You were even so kind, seeing how jet-lagged I was, to let Charlie spend the evening with you. I can't fathom how Atlanta could compare to the wonders of my factory, but Charlie hasn't stopped smiling since.
After all of this, then, imagine my shock when I heard "Laffy Taffy" on the radio. "Girls call me Jolly Rancher/cuz I stay so hard." Jolly Rancher? Jolly Rancher! A Hershey product! My spirit crumbled like Halloween SweeTARTS forgotten in a coat pocket. And, oh, little Charlie--I fear that your perfidy has made him physically ill; he certainly has been spending much time in the bathroom lately. Perhaps, with your first royalty check, you can buy yourself a conscience.
C.E.O., WonkaFood Amalgamated, L.L.C.
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