A Love LetterPosted: December 17, 2012
With the holiday season in full swing, I really wanted to take the opportunity to express my deep love and appreciation for one individual who has changed my life. This person has made my days easier and my existence better. Because of my deep, unconditional love for this person, I don’t feel the need to hide my deep affection for him. So I am posting an online love letter to him, with the hopes that fate will allow him to stumble onto it.
Dear Indian Guy Who Owns the Ghetto Gas Station that Sells Bongs by My House,
I just wanted to say thanks you for, well, everything. It’s not about one major thing that you’ve done, but a collection of the little things, that make you so incredibly awesome.
I remember the first time we met. I came in wearing two different shoes and a pair of sweatpants with penguins on them. You smiled at me through the shine of a skull-shaped, multi-chamber, 2 foot bong and it was love at first site. You didn’t judge me as I purchased a 12 pack and 11 Slim Jims at 8 am on a Tuesday morning. I appreciated that.
I appreciate the fact that you continue to sell boiled peanuts even though no one wants them, and they go on, sitting in that greasy brownish water until you throw them out. You know they’ll be rejected, but you still hope, day after day. Because you believe in your peanuts, even if no one else does.
Thank you for naming your gas station ‘Gas Station’, because that really gets to the point, doesn’t it? Who the hell needs silly names when you can just be succinct? I’m not going to the “Kangaroo” or the “7-11”. I’m just going to the ‘Gas Station’. Thanks for not fancying it up and turning into one of those snobs like at the 7-11.
I appreciate the fact that you continue to hit on me, even though I’ve never been anything that resembles attractive when I came into your store. I think we both know from my purchases that I am a train wreck of a person and I appreciate the daily confidence boost.
Thanks for occasionally hooking me up with weed. I mean, it shwag weed, but still, A for effort. On the flip side, thanks for occasionally accepting weed as legal tender. While we disagree on the value of one incredibly dank hydro nugget from up north, it’s nice to know you’re willing to negotiate.
Thanks for not getting mad when I hurled in your parking lot. Oh, by the way, it was me that hurled in your parking lot.
Thanks for laughing at that slightly racist statement I made about the grape cigars you are selling. I noticed they are selling like hot cakes. Well done.
In conclusion, I know my love is unrequited. The only reason you are so nice to me is because my regular cigarette and alcohol purchases are putting your children through college. But thanks anyway. You brighten my day and you are truly making the world a better place one boiled peanut at a time.