X
XT Utah
Guest
One of my co-workers sent the following complaint to Stephen's Gourmet, who makes various types of hot cocoa. It's 
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9/15/2005
Stephen’s Gourmet
P.O. Box 10
Farmington, Utah 84025
Dear Stephen,
On the outside of your hot cocoa container there is a guarantee statement in which you welcome the dropping of a note with regards to your Premium Quality Hot Cocoa.
Recently while on an Archery Elk Hunt in the high Uintas, I brought along several varieties of your hot sipping cocoa. Before a hard day of hunting, I would start my morning with something luxurious, warm and delicious. I had completely consumed my container of Mint Truffle (I am salivating just thinking about it) and moved on to a never before tried variety of Raspberry Cocoa. On the morning of Monday, 8/29/2005, I heated water on the camp stove in the crisp pre-dawn mountain air and mixed up a large mug of Raspberry Cocoa. It was so delicious that I stopped my hunt preparations and sat in my camp chair and savored the delicious, warm, liquid treat. Due to my gluttonous nature, I mixed up another large mug of your scrumptious Raspberry Hot Cocoa for the drive up the mountain. In mixing the cocoa I followed the directions and then added a couple of extra scoops of the cocoa mix. Oh my, it was so thick and smooth. I could almost stand the spoon on end in the creamy mixture. This second cup was even more delicious than the first.
I started up the mountain clad in camouflage, with my pack and my bow in search of elk. I knew that problems were on the way when audible indicators started to warn of an awful event on the verge of transpiring. As the famed and cuddly animated bear, Winnie the Pooh, once said and I quote, “There is a Rumbly in my Tumbly”. These indicators in my instance were not sounds of hunger as in the case of the Pooh Bear, but part of the pre launch sequence of my GI tract. The combination of the Raspberry Cocoa and my stomach acid caused a violent chemical reaction, which released energy on the order of magnitude of a low yield nuclear weapon. All of this expanding gas and energy was pent up in my innards searching for a way out. At this point I will not delve into the gruesome details however I did exhaust my supply of toilet paper in my pack. I had the worst case of gamble gas of my life. You may ask “What is gamble gas?” – Well let me tell you: Gamble gas is like an intestinal spin of the roulette wheel. You have a festering ball of methane roaming around in your insides. You are almost sure if you eek it out it will pass cleanly into the atmosphere but there is always the chance that you will get a little bit more than you bargained for and crap your drawers. Not wanting to chance my expensive camouflage britches I choose to execute the emergency bare butt, pants around the ankles, evacuation waddle down off the mountain. The odds were not stacked in my favor and it is a good thing there was nothing between my erupting orifice and the ground below.
During my descent to the truck I passed such copious amounts of gas that I could have filled the Hindenburg. Luckily I had an emergency stash of toilet paper back at the vehicle. My morning hunt was ruined and I scared away every living thing for miles.
Any time a letter of feedback is written it should clearly state what the expectation was, what actually happened and what needs to be done to rectify the situation. What I expected was a scrumptious sip of civilization prior to my bloodthirsty pursuit of forest dwelling creatures. What I got was a gruesome case of the wilderness squirts in which I darn near pooed myself inside out. The question that I have is this: Has this ever happened before? Could a rotten batch of berries been used in this particular batch of sipping cocoa? To resolve this issue and pay me back for the ruined morning hunt you may send me one roll of the highest quality toilet paper you can find – I prefer a quilted 2 ply. You may also send a great big can of every kind of scrumptious sipping concoction that you make so that I might sample them all to ensure that they are fit for consumption.
In looking at your picture on the outside of the Cocoa container you have quite the aristocratic look and I question whether potty humor such as this strikes your funny bone. Forgive me for being judgmental but I wonder if the mere mention of the word poo (or as the English spell it – pooh) makes you quiver. If potty humor is not your forte, than please forward this letter to someone in your organization who can appreciate it such as a forklift driver in your warehouse. I can say this because I used to drive a forklift while working my way through college and I love potty humor. In fact I have had a most wonderful time transcribing the events of that grizzly morning.
The above stated events are true. If you want proof, it can be found strewn across the mountainside at the following GPS coordinates: UTM 12 509566E. 4512954N.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
9/15/2005
Stephen’s Gourmet
P.O. Box 10
Farmington, Utah 84025
Dear Stephen,
On the outside of your hot cocoa container there is a guarantee statement in which you welcome the dropping of a note with regards to your Premium Quality Hot Cocoa.
Recently while on an Archery Elk Hunt in the high Uintas, I brought along several varieties of your hot sipping cocoa. Before a hard day of hunting, I would start my morning with something luxurious, warm and delicious. I had completely consumed my container of Mint Truffle (I am salivating just thinking about it) and moved on to a never before tried variety of Raspberry Cocoa. On the morning of Monday, 8/29/2005, I heated water on the camp stove in the crisp pre-dawn mountain air and mixed up a large mug of Raspberry Cocoa. It was so delicious that I stopped my hunt preparations and sat in my camp chair and savored the delicious, warm, liquid treat. Due to my gluttonous nature, I mixed up another large mug of your scrumptious Raspberry Hot Cocoa for the drive up the mountain. In mixing the cocoa I followed the directions and then added a couple of extra scoops of the cocoa mix. Oh my, it was so thick and smooth. I could almost stand the spoon on end in the creamy mixture. This second cup was even more delicious than the first.
I started up the mountain clad in camouflage, with my pack and my bow in search of elk. I knew that problems were on the way when audible indicators started to warn of an awful event on the verge of transpiring. As the famed and cuddly animated bear, Winnie the Pooh, once said and I quote, “There is a Rumbly in my Tumbly”. These indicators in my instance were not sounds of hunger as in the case of the Pooh Bear, but part of the pre launch sequence of my GI tract. The combination of the Raspberry Cocoa and my stomach acid caused a violent chemical reaction, which released energy on the order of magnitude of a low yield nuclear weapon. All of this expanding gas and energy was pent up in my innards searching for a way out. At this point I will not delve into the gruesome details however I did exhaust my supply of toilet paper in my pack. I had the worst case of gamble gas of my life. You may ask “What is gamble gas?” – Well let me tell you: Gamble gas is like an intestinal spin of the roulette wheel. You have a festering ball of methane roaming around in your insides. You are almost sure if you eek it out it will pass cleanly into the atmosphere but there is always the chance that you will get a little bit more than you bargained for and crap your drawers. Not wanting to chance my expensive camouflage britches I choose to execute the emergency bare butt, pants around the ankles, evacuation waddle down off the mountain. The odds were not stacked in my favor and it is a good thing there was nothing between my erupting orifice and the ground below.
During my descent to the truck I passed such copious amounts of gas that I could have filled the Hindenburg. Luckily I had an emergency stash of toilet paper back at the vehicle. My morning hunt was ruined and I scared away every living thing for miles.
Any time a letter of feedback is written it should clearly state what the expectation was, what actually happened and what needs to be done to rectify the situation. What I expected was a scrumptious sip of civilization prior to my bloodthirsty pursuit of forest dwelling creatures. What I got was a gruesome case of the wilderness squirts in which I darn near pooed myself inside out. The question that I have is this: Has this ever happened before? Could a rotten batch of berries been used in this particular batch of sipping cocoa? To resolve this issue and pay me back for the ruined morning hunt you may send me one roll of the highest quality toilet paper you can find – I prefer a quilted 2 ply. You may also send a great big can of every kind of scrumptious sipping concoction that you make so that I might sample them all to ensure that they are fit for consumption.
In looking at your picture on the outside of the Cocoa container you have quite the aristocratic look and I question whether potty humor such as this strikes your funny bone. Forgive me for being judgmental but I wonder if the mere mention of the word poo (or as the English spell it – pooh) makes you quiver. If potty humor is not your forte, than please forward this letter to someone in your organization who can appreciate it such as a forklift driver in your warehouse. I can say this because I used to drive a forklift while working my way through college and I love potty humor. In fact I have had a most wonderful time transcribing the events of that grizzly morning.
The above stated events are true. If you want proof, it can be found strewn across the mountainside at the following GPS coordinates: UTM 12 509566E. 4512954N.
