A Letter of Complaint #1

Last time we went to the beach, we stayed at a nice little inn. No complaints out of us - but if we'd had any, this letter would have come in handy.

Dear Sir or (noun),

I just spent a miserable weekend at your (adjective) hotel. Your advertisement in my hometown (noun) was an outrageous (noun). You said you provided guests with a welcome basket of (plural noun). All I found in my room was a trash (noun) filled with old (plural noun). You also claimed to offer free overnight (verb ending in "ING") in your garage. Not true, Fella. Your garage was all filled up, and I had to park my new (noun) across the street in a vacant (noun). It was stolen!

And about your hotel staff - they were (adverb) inadequate. Your so-called expert masseur not only stuck a finger in my (noun), but he broke two of my (part of the body - plural) while giving me a Swedish (noun). Your room service was a/an (adjective) joke! They not only served burnt (noun) but spilled a hot cup of (noun) all over my newly pressed (noun). I had to go to a business meeting wearing a/an (noun)! I'm planning to sue you for a million (plural noun).

Natalie said...
Dear Sir or Guy on the train who wants you to take a nude picture of him in the dressing room,

I just spent a miserable weekend at your only eats the marshmallows out of Lucky Charms hotel. Your advertisement in my hometown scab was an outrageous yap-yap. You said you provided guests with a welcome basket of hairy armpits. All I found in my room was a trash angry goose butt filled with old sewer rats in disguise. You also claimed to offer free overnight straining in your garage. Not true, Fella. Your garage was all filled up, and I had to park my new blinding grocery store laser across the street in a vacant electrolysis enjoyer. It was stolen!

And about your hotel staff - they were waftingly inadequate. Your so-called expert masseur not only stuck a finger in my Bob the Builder obsesser, but he broke two of my uvulas while giving me a Swedish tipped-over cow. Your room service was a totally dipheaded joke! They not only served burnt lukewarm vomit but spilled a hot cup of nipple ring accessories all over my newly pressed adorable Sunbeam. I had to go to a business meeting wearing a child that says she loves yogurt but eats one bite and says she hates it! I'm planning to sue you for a million speech impediments.

Klin said...
Dear Sir or Banana,

I just spent a miserable weekend at your ginormously large hotel. Your advertisement in my hometown printer was an outrageous bird. You said you provided guests with a welcome basket of juicy cantaloupes. All I found in my room was a trash book shelf filled with old empty boxes. You also claimed to offer free overnight screaming in your garage. Not true, Fella. Your garage was all filled up, and I had to park my new Breaking Dawn across the street in a vacant sock. It was stolen!

And about your hotel staff - they were excruciatingly inadequate. Your so-called expert masseur not only stuck a finger in my new furniture, but he broke two of my eyelids while giving me a Swedish basement. Your room service was a soft-a-licious joke! They not only served burnt soaking tub but spilled a hot cup of aching feet all over my newly pressed school. I had to go to a business meeting wearing a picture window! I'm planning to sue you for a million connected printers.

Thorny Tree Lady said...
Dear Sir or Half-eaten Peach,

I just spent a miserable weekend at your Cheetah-licious hotel. Your advertisement in my hometown measuring tape was an outrageous lotion dispenser. You said you provided guests with a welcome basket of Olympic Beach Volleyball Cheerleaders. All I found in my room was a trash Martina McBride filled with old Applebee's Resturant patrons. You also claimed to offer free overnight gagging in your garage. Not true, Fella. Your garage was all filled up, and I had to park my new Cheetah Girl across the street in a vacant Olympic Silver Medal. It was stolen!

And about your hotel staff - they were begrudgingly inadequate. Your so-called expert masseur not only stuck a finger in my empty bag of Fritos, but he broke two of my earlobes while giving me a Swedish knapsack. Your room service was a nauseating joke! They not only served burnt at-home pregnancy test but spilled a hot cup of abandoned flip-flop all over my newly pressed laundry basket. I had to go to a business meeting wearing a dull razor! I'm planning to sue you for a million nervous children on their first day back to school.

Wynne said...
Dear Sir or Feces,

I just spent a miserable weekend at your crushing hotel. Your advertisement in my hometown sedimentary rock was an outrageous penguin. You said you provided guests with a welcome basket of punk rockers. All I found in my room was a trash cat sick filled with old missionaries. You also claimed to offer free overnight drowning in your garage. Not true, Fella. Your garage was all filled up, and I had to park my new bubble gum across the street in a vacant diaper rash. It was stolen!

And about your hotel staff - they were queasily inadequate. Your so-called expert masseur not only stuck a finger in my clam chowder, but he broke two of my orifices while giving me a Swedish Parthenon. Your room service was a slippery joke! They not only served burnt smoke but spilled a hot cup of twinkie all over my newly pressed rutabaga. I had to go to a business meeting wearing a Suburban! I'm planning to sue you for a million dust motes.

Dalene said...
Dear Sir or Tricep,

I just spent a miserable weekend at your deliriously incompetent hotel. Your advertisement in my hometown bicep was an outrageous quadricep. You said you provided guests with a welcome basket of nematodes. All I found in my room was a trash cubicle filled with old epithets. You also claimed to offer free overnight masticating in your garage. Not true, Fella. Your garage was all filled up, and I had to park my new clavicle across the street in a vacant cuticle. It was stolen!

And about your hotel staff - they were expeditiously inadequate. Your so-called expert masseur not only stuck a finger in my abyss, but he broke two of my anterior cruciate ligaments while giving me a Swedish catalyst. Your room service was an ooey-gooey joke! They not only served burnt catharsis but spilled a hot cup of doorknob all over my newly pressed door jam. I had to go to a business meeting wearing toe jam! I'm planning to sue you for a million apothecary jars.