Dear Flurge Body Foam,

As a new user of your product, I have to say I am very displeased and currently writing to inform you of this fact. Because the Rite-Aid was out of my regular soap, I decided to pick up a tube of your Cool Ranch-scented body foam, as my wife and I regularly enjoy your prime-time commercials during Dancing With the Stars. Our favorite is the one with the two golfers, where the one golfer smells the other golfer and asks him "Did you wash with Flurge Body Foam today?" Following this, a herd of attractive women suddenly appears on the neatly-manicured fairway and roughs up the one golfer sexually. Then the announcer man says, "Flurge: get Flurged" and the commercial ends.

Yes, we all had a chuckle at these antics. But when a very similar herd of girls appeared this morning and surrounded my car, I failed to see the humor of this event. These girls, while attractive, could not be reasoned with. I sat terrified in my Geo for nearly two and a half hours while they pressed all manner of body parts against the windshield. I was finally able to distract them by honking my horn for two solid minutes, and while they dispersed, it seems like they have not gone far.

Gentlemen, I am a pillar of my community and the owner of several successful hardware stores. While your product does work as advertised, the side effects are highly distracting and I demand to be refunded my $3.85 in full. I hope you will respect my wishes as a fellow businessman.

Yours,
Peter Chadley

Dear Flurge Body Foam,

I have to admit, at first I was somewhat amused by the attention I've received based on my single use of your Flurge Cool Ranch Body Foam; it's been nearly 40 years since I courted Mrs. Chadley over the course of several church socials, so I have come to enjoy the female form from afar. But this harassment has to stop. It has been two weeks and I have reached my breaking point.

These women, they sleep on my lawn. I have no idea what they eat or how they stay so attractive, but I am swarmed every morning the second I step out the door. Mrs. Chadley thought a little handiwork with the hose would spook them off, but they refuse to budge even in this frigid Nebraskan winter. I can barely survive outside without my gloves and hat, yet these women seem to be fine in their skimpy bikinis?

There is something seriously wrong with your product and I feel that a total recall is in order. We no longer enjoy your commercials, as most of our TV-watching is now drowned out by the sound of breasts rubbing against our living room picture window.

As a Christian and a gentleman, I ask you to address this problem before I am forced to get the law involved. We have already boycotted Dancing With the Stars, which was very hard for me as I am a very big fan of Tony Danza. Please bring the joy back to my life.

Yours,
Peter Chadley

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