Dear Flurge Body Foam,
I am in hell and you have taken me there. As of last week, I was asked to leave the Hardware Proprietors Association due to the events that happened at our last convention. I thought they wouldn't find me, but they did. Mrs. Chadley washed me with tomato juice, all manner of anti-bacterials, and even a diluted bleach solution, yet the scent of Cool Ranch refuses to leave my body. These women tracked me down to the beautiful city of Selby, South Dakota and barged right in during my presentation on The Future of Hammers.
The boys from the HPA were at first tickled when they thought I had secretly hired a bunch of strippers to liven things up, but when these women started chasing after and pawing at Peter Chadley alone, I was pulled aside by Hardware Commissioner Steve Kilgore and given a dishonorable discharge. The only other member of the HPA to suffer this fate was a man (I will not name names) who had sexual relations with several pieces of fruit in a grocery store bathroom and filmed it. Your Flurge Cool Ranch Body Foam has put me in the same category as this former colleague, and has inadvertently gotten me banned from our local Farmer's Market.
The police will not listen to me, so I beg you: send me some sort of antidote. I have enclosed several gift certificates to my store. Please use them before the end of the month, as this is when they expire.
Dear Flurge Body Foam,
I am ruined. All has been taken from me. And yet you refuse to respond. As much as I have tried to ignore these women, they have grown in number and have infiltrated every aspect of my life. I am not even safe in the House of God. Last Sunday I attended my niece's christening, only to once again be attacked by the Flurge Body Foam horde. I pleaded with them to not bring their evil into our sacred place of worship, but they refused to listen and instead started moistening their tops with nearby bowls of holy water. I assumed Christianity was a religion of forgiveness, but as of this writing I am not on speaking terms with most of my family and my wife now lives with her sister in Pennsylvania.
I spend my days now hiding in the attic. There are no windows. It is safe. And as far as I know, these women cannot leap or climb. I have never seen them use language or tools; when I am not around they either gently wrestle or sleep in large piles to conserve warmth.
Surely, this must be happening elsewhere. I beg you as a fellow human being to help me. I don't have much -- oh God I hear footsteps in the house. Sweet Lord help me. They're learning. The booby traps I set must have been disarmed! But how? What's that? Holy Jesus no. They are communicating with each other! But that is not a language from this Earth. No, this is not right at all.
I have brought a rifle with me up here. There is only one way out of this. Mark my words, Flurge Body Foam. I will have my vengeance. From beyond I grave I will destroy you.
Dear Peter Chadley,
We are sorry to hear about your issues with Flurge Body Foam: Cool Ranch Special Edition. We at United Chemical Industries, Inc. are sincerely sorry for your discomfort. Enclosed you will find three free samples of our new Flurge Zesty Taco Hair Cream.
Have a great day, and remember to Get Flurged!
Consumer Response-Bot #4455878
This is where the excerpt from an article usually goes. Since the content of this update is only intended for cool people, I refuse to place a single word in the path of blundering normal people.
Out here in the Wild West we got some rules for gunfightin', like a pregnant lady ain't gotta be carryin' iron for you to draw on her first.
The Something Awful front page news tackles anything both off and on the Internet. Mostly "on" though, as we're all incredible nerds.