Dear Jerks,

Well, now you've done it. You crapbags have finally gone and done it. You have angered me to the point of letter writing and you know I am against ALL forms of communication that don't involve interpretive dance in some manner or fashion. I'd just like to tell you sons-of-motherless-goats that I am exceptionally disappointed in your screening process and wish dispensing methods and statutes. Year after year after year, I have told you about my own personal losses and hardships and wishes and year after year after year, you send me another restraining order. What gives?! Why can't I have my wishes fulfilled?!

Look. It's really quite simple. All I want is to do is play in a Street Fighter II tournament with Oprah, Michael Jordan, and whatever surviving members of the Little Rascals are available, immediately followed by a pizza and hoagie party catered by Lynda Carter of Wonder Woman fame. What is so goddamn hard about that? Oh, and don't give me that, "Oh, we only make wishes come true for sick and dying children" crap either. I know you're game. While those kids are having fun, you steal their precious medicines and sell them on the streets to hookers and gang leaders.....or so I assume. What do you want from me?! I've suffered in my life. I've got a really bad splinter from building my tree house, "Fort Awesome". My pet turtle, Doctor Salmonella, died like only after 2 weeks of me enjoying his not moving around all that much. I lost like $80 in Vegas last New Years and Grandma Utz Potato Chips aren't getting any cheaper either. I'm suffering! I need a wish!

Don't make me point out your past misappropriations either. Little Timmy McGrueder of Little Quihapseekittybunshunt, MI. You guys let him throw out the first pitch at a minor league baseball game and he got to keep a uniform! And you know what, now his cancer is in remission, so take that crap back and send it my way! Precocious Jimmy Frinks of Northern Idaho, was born without thumbs and you guys, in your infinite wisdom, helped him fulfill his dream of going to space camp. Come on!! I don’t think NASA is gonna let the thumbless wonder pilot the spaceshuttle or protect us from the Plutonians anytime soon. Send that money to me! Darling little Darla Jenkins of Upper Sanctionsberg, WA got to meet Britney Spears and she's blind! You could have spent $8.50 on gin and had her shake the hand of a transient and it would have gotten the same effect. These are just three examples of the lucky bastards you bestow dreams upon everyday.....why can't I be a bastard too?!

Well, I have to go. I've got a headache and these underpants are not going to change themselves…yet....{sigh}...I sure could use a wish right about now.....awwwwww, SCREW IT! You guys don't care. Just because I'm "not dying", or "am not barely hanging on to the precious gift of life", or "am in my twenties", or "am a thrice convicted charity defrauder", or "morally reprehensible", then that means I don't get free crap from you. Well, up yours. You're off of the Christmas card list and I'm taking you off of my caller ID. In fact, my new wish that I'd like for you guys to fulfill is that you'd jump into a fish tank full of Bengal tigers and meat tenderizer. Huh?! What do you think about that?! I hope you seriously mull over considering my undeserved and outlandish wishes. If you don't, then who will?

Going straight to hell,
SweetMonkeyCreek

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