A Letter to a Resort Hotel

To the Manager of (last name)'s HOTEL, 344 (person's name) Street, (a location), California.

Dear, Sir, Madam or (noun),
I would like to reserve a/an (noun) at your (adjective) hotel for two weeks in August. We will need a room for myself, my wife, and our two (plural noun). We would like a double (noun) with a view of the (plural noun). I understand that your rate includes a continental breakfast consisting of a/an (adjective) French roll and (a food) preserves and a pot of hot (liquid). I would also like to reserve a side trip to (a place) and to the (last name) Canyon. My wife and I will go to the canyon alone. We will leave our smallest (noun) with his (adjective) brother at the swimming pool. We were at your hotel last year and had a simply (adjective) time and we look forward to fourteen days of relaxing (adverb) in your luxurious (noun).

Millie said...
To the Manager of Schwendimann's HOTEL, 344 Fred Gibbs Street, Hell's Kitchen, California.

Dear, Sir, Madam or shrimp bait,
I would like to reserve a fountain of sludge at your fresh (and not in a good way) hotel for two weeks in August. We will need a room for myself, my wife, and our two prunes. We would like a double wedding ring indentation with a view of the slug trails. I understand that your rate includes a continental breakfast consisting of a dipstick-resembling French roll and hummus preserves and a pot of hot sneeze juice. I would also like to reserve a side trip to the Titanic and to the Toothloser Canyon. My wife and I will go to the canyon alone. We will leave our smallest new car smell with his coffee-flavored brother at the swimming pool. We were at your hotel last year and had a simply profusely sweating time and we look forward to fourteen days of relaxing sneakily in your luxurious sippy cup.

Heffalump said...
To the Manager of Brynjulfsen's HOTEL, 344 Harry Butts Street, The Twilight zone, California.

Dear, Sir, Madam or Studebaker,
I would like to reserve a Vespa at your psychadelic hotel for two weeks in August. We will need a room for myself, my wife, and our two acrobatic monkeys. We would like a double quilt made by your great Aunt Nan that is made from mismatched baby clothes that never even belonged to you with a view of the participants in a Zumba class. I understand that your rate includes a continental breakfast consisting of a reminiscent of a disco ball French roll and chocolate-covered ants preserves and a pot of hot sweat of my brow. I would also like to reserve a side trip to the trunk of a mafia member's car and to the Fairchild Canyon. My wife and I will go to the canyon alone. We will leave our smallest adult tricycle coveted by Millie with his plural brother at the swimming pool. We were at your hotel last year and had a simply in need of decoding time and we look forward to fourteen days of relaxing increasingly in your luxurious shade-loving hosta plants.

Lt Col Samantha Carter said...
To the Manager of Aniston's HOTEL, 344 Angelina Street, Nice, France, California.

Dear, Sir, Madam or portable fan,
I would like to reserve a wii remote at your undulating hotel for two weeks in August. We will need a room for myself, my wife, and our two Prom goers. We would like a double itsy bitsy teeny weeny yellow polka dot bikini with a view of the garden destroying gophers. I understand that your rate includes a continental breakfast consisting of an undulating French roll and fresh pineapple preserves and a pot of hot grenadine. I would also like to reserve a side trip to the backseat of Jackie's car and to the Pitt Canyon. My wife and I will go to the canyon alone. We will leave our smallest Hoff's hair with his economically depressed brother at the swimming pool. We were at your hotel last year and had a simply frazzled time and we look forward to fourteen days of relaxing friviolously in your luxurious angelic nectar that is Dr Pepper.

FluffyChicky said...
To the Manager of Finklestein's HOTEL, 344 Melba Peachbottom Street, The Pit of Despair, California.

Dear, Sir, Madam or wet t-shirt contest for the “Over 70” crowd,
I would like to reserve a cheese grater at your hot-headed hotel for two weeks in August. We will need a room for myself, my wife, and our two electric griddles. We would like a double Aunt Orva’s false teeth with a view of the loser celebrities who aren’t cool enough to have their own figure at Madame Tussaud’s. I understand that your rate includes a continental breakfast consisting of a full-figured French roll and 3 week old Chinese leftovers wedged into the back corner of the refrigerator preserves and a pot of hot pimple secretions. I would also like to reserve a side trip to under the living room couch with the killer dust bunnies and to the Stanky Canyon. My wife and I will go to the canyon alone. We will leave our smallest Wankle rotary engine with his underwhelming brother at the swimming pool. We were at your hotel last year and had a simply slap-happy time and we look forward to fourteen days of relaxing snottily in your luxurious swimming pool full of rabid naked mole rats.