A Letter

Dear Mr. Ben and Jerry,

 

I am writing to inform you of my severe customer dissatisfaction with the creation of your new product, Milk and Cookies.  I am afraid one is lured under false pretenses to purchase said product by procuring child-like imagery of mothers in kitchens, playgrounds and fast metabolisms. However, I am led to believe that there is something more sinister than mere manipulation and subliminal messaging at play beneath the surface for which I demand an explanation.

Considering the term “Milk and Cookies” is meant to insinuate a singular act by conjuring images of after school snacks, one must only assume that a pint of aptly named icy confection is meant to be consumed in the same manner. Every day.  For the last three days, in fact.  It has migrated from the comforting childhood confection to an obsessive, nervous, need.  I have become so enamored that I have, on more than one occasion, been found with a spoon frozen deftly into the palm of my right hand- unable to wait long enough to remove the carton from the freezer before indulging.  I have been left with little defense or device against the lure of cream and chocolate cookie contained in this one, innocent pint and I can no longer carry the guilt and shame (along with the bonus poundage) that are not truly mine to bear.  I have found my footing, risen among the ashes of discarded cartons and have finally found the courage to look inside myself and proclaim to the world: This is all your fault.

After being a faithful supporter of your creamery for more than several years, I am afraid this may be the last straw.  I can no longer be faithful to one who finds no fault in the disillusionment of America’s growing, sugar-addicted population without holding some form of accountability.  I  politely but firmly request a detailed, outlined apology for the confusion, loss of sleep, lack of nutrition, excess fat deposits and strange, addictive behavior this product has caused me.  I hope you feel the hole my leave of consumership will cause you, as I proceed to boycott your product line.  After I finish the last three pints already purchased in my freezer.  And, of course, I will not turn away a gift if someone were to buy said product for me; that would be insulting.  Or in times of severe distress or emergency, such as a terrible guest on Oprah at four.  Or, if you were to feel so moved by my testimony of suffering that you should decide to provide me a year’s supply of ice cream in the flavor in question.  I would begrudgingly have to accept.

Sincerely, a disgruntled customer,

Jenny Shannon

 

 

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