5005 Nonsense Street
I wish to complain about your product, Gobsmackers, which I purchased from the local bodega about 35 minutes ago. When I took my purchase up to the counter, the young lady at the till took one look at my package, then punched me in the mouth.
When I objected, she gave me some line about being "contractually obligated" and turned my attention to the fine print on the package, where it said that the purchaser agrees to accept the consequences, which may or may not include inconvenience, embarrassment and light physical injury.
Naturally, I was flummoxed, but she urged me to contact the company to discuss the matter further. Imagine my dismay when I opened the box, only to discover that it was empty save for a piece of paper reading, "Hope it was nothing you expected but everything you needed."
I expected some nice jaw breakers, not to be punched in the kisser. I demand a full refund and restitution for the icepack I had to place on my jaw. Receipts are included, totaling $13.56.
A dissatisfied customer,
Horace C. Avuncular
45 Disgruntled Lane
Dear Mr. Avuncular (Or may I call you Hor?):
I deeply apologize for your unsatisfactory experience. The cashier should never have hit you until after you paid. After all, we're not in the business of giving away our product for free. Thank you for bringing this to our attention. We have sent a stern warning regarding the cashier in question.
As for expecting to obtain jaw breakers, you obviously have us confused with the similarly named company, Gobstoppers. We have nothing to do with that company, and if you ever receive anything as mundane as jaw breakers in a Gobsmackers package, I will punish whatever low-brained twit was responsible.
Thank you for expressing your views. We welcome customer input to make our product ever more rewarding. Please accept the enclosed coupon for a family-sized package of Gobsmackers as compensation.
President, Gobsmackers International
Dear Mr. Halcyon:
Despite some phraseology in your missive leading me to doubt your sincerity, I believed your voucher to be a peace offering. When I attempted to redeem it, the cashier was the same one as before. She informed me I could only redeem it in the presence of my family. I explained that my family lived out-of-state, but she told me to do the best I could. I returned with my miniature schnauzer, and she gave me a small umbrella to hold over the dog. Then she dumped a bucket of ice-cold water over my head.
Poor Mr. Smithers (my schnauzer) was so startled that he piddled all over me. Furthermore, I was wearing a dry-clean-only ensemble, which I had to take to the dry cleaner's.
Enclosed is a bill for the dry cleaning and for a pet therapy session for Mr. Smithers, who is still recovering. I will only accept restitution; a coupon is not sufficient. You, sir, are a cad.
Horace C. Avuncular
Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm afraid you are the wrong sort of customer for our product. Clearly, you are too old and easily discomfited. Gobsmackers is a product only for young risk-takers who enjoy being shaken out of their comfort zone. You, however, are a fuddy-duddy.
Enclosed is a check for full restitution. Do not darken our doorsteps again. If I find out you've attempted to buy our product, I will set a team of lawyers on you that will not only fleece you but will debone you, as well.
In your last letter, you accused me of being old and out of touch. I am only 25. To prove you wrong, I entered the same establishment to make one final Gobsmackers purchase. As I suspected, the same cashier was behind the counter. She eyed me oddly: "Are you sure you want to buy that?" she asked.
I told her about your recent letter and how you'd accused me of being a stifled stick-in-the-mud. "I'm too young to be mistaken for an old man," I said. "Do your worst."
She told me to close my eyes. I acquiesced and steeled myself for whatever might arise. Would she sideswipe my legs from under me? Stick my hands in a bucket of mud, thus ruining my manicure? Would she "pants" me, leaving me embarrassed in my Garfield boxers? No, sir. She kissed me.
That's right: she kissed me. A tender, whispery feather on my lips that lingered hopefully. I opened my eyes, and she gazed into them sweetly. "How much do I owe you?" I asked.
"How about dinner?" she responded.
You're right, sir. I was stuck in my ways. Gobsmackers was nothing I expected but everything I needed.
Horace C. Avuncular
My Dear Horace:
Your story warms the cockles of my heart. Enclosed is another coupon for a family-sized Gobsmackers. Hopefully, one day you'll be able to redeem it.
(If you do end up marrying the clerk, please write me. It would make a terrific commercial campaign!)
Once again, thanks to roina_arwen for her editing suggestions and to my husband, The Gryphon, a.k.a. toanstation, who read through it, as well.