To whom this may concern at The Annual,
Hello, there. My name is George Alan Arthur Cumberbun and I’m a subscriber to your funny mag. First, let me tell you that all you writers really crack my staff and me up here at Cumberbun’s Crème Parlor in Boston, Massachusetts. While specializing in the finest crèmes money can buy has its perks, it takes more than a sweet shot of crème to the lips to keep my employees satisfied. So, thank all’a’ya.
Despite the humorous arousal I undergo from each issue, I’m afraid my letter comes with more than thanks. It also comes with a V…for Vendetta (I can do this funny stuff too. Hire me! ROTFL). Now, it is nothing against y’see, but I’m seeking help to bury the once sacred airline known as United. I’m just tired of this airline getting away with the poor treatment of its customers. These buffoons have no idea what they’re doing when it comes to customer satisfaction. And I should know about customer satisfaction! I work in the crème business after all. Anyway, here is a portion of the letter I sent to them after a ludicrous trip:
I am having a hard time swallowing the experience I had with your airline. And I should know about swallowing! I work in the crème business, after all. Anyway, after arriving at my gate, my flight was delayed due to the weather. I get that. I’m OK with that. But, when the time came to board the plane, the ticket-takers informed us, “The pilots’ whereabouts are unknown.” I mean, what da fudge? How in da sprinkles dontcha know where the pilots are? After hours spent in your-alls’ customer service line, I managed to get a different flight on a different airline at a different airport! Now, tell me, does that scream customer service? You betcha bavarian cream it doesn’t!
I understand my language was a bit like spoiled crème, but I assure you it was worth every drop of ink. Later in the letter, I shared my predicament when traveling home.
And don’t get me started on the trip home! As a joke, I told my family, “Dontcha think it’d be funny if our flight got delayed again?” And guess what happened, United? By golly, it did! And you know why? Because they couldn’t find a stewardess! At first, I was lenient, thinking they would later dazzle me with the seatbelt demonstration. But no! Just the same ole click and fasten, wham, bam, thank you, United fliers. Me, my Aunt Jude and my sister, Claire, all cooped up in that hamster cage you call a terminal for hours while they waited for a dang peanut lady. Well, I’ll tell you now that I will do everything in my power to crumble your airline with my crème-filled hands.
So, as you can see, I got myself in one crusty of a situation and I could use all the help I can get. That’s when I thought, “I’m gonna write a letter to the mag I know will care!” That, of course, is you all at The Annual. All I am is a Boston father of three with a family that deserves to go places without wondering if there will be a pilot or a stewardess. My final plea is for you all to help me bring the United Airline to its knees and have them wish that they never crossed George A. A. Cumberbun and The Annual writers. Thank ya for your precious time, and feel free to visit our parlor for a surprise crème-ing any time you’re in the area.
Da Crème King Himself,
George A. A. Cumberbun
*ROTFL = Rolling on the floor laughing