let me not get ahead of myself.
i had recently heard your advertisement on the radio and i'd never stayed at your motel, but the ad was charming and i'm always interested in new experiences.
so, when it came time to get a room the night before the wedding and all other hotels were booked solid, i turned to you.but i had little idea what new experience you would be throwing me through.
at about 11pm, exhausted from the drive, i stumbled toward my motel room. my hands were full of luggage and a fine bottle of middleton's whiskey-- a $150 wedding present for the two lovebirds.
i managed to unlock the door and push it open with my back only before entering and noticing the light... was not left on for me. and i suppose that wouldn't have mattered if it didn't cause me to stumble about blindly in search of the light switch.
you see, it was that sightless mini-adventure that changed the entire night.
my foot must've been caught on some sort of telephone cord, or electrical wire-- to be honest, i don't know what it was because i couldn't see it-- i tripped backward and smashed the bottle of whiskey against my hard suitcase, shattering it across the motel floor.
i then fell into the pile of glass and luggage, stabbing myself with whiskey-flavored shards.
while in the hospital, i was stitched up just in time to miss my best friend's wedding entirely.
oh, how i wish that were true. maybe then i would've seen the booby-traps. maybe then i would be writing you a warm thank you letter instead of a pained note of betrayed emotion.
i'm at a loss for words, motel 6, but i ask kindly that you change your slogan to something more fitting-- something more honest.
perhaps, "at motel 6, you will get stabbed and miss your best friend's wedding. also, all of your clothes will smell like whiskey."
recoveringly,
president wishnack
p.s. i am not paying the "cleaning fee" that was added to my bill as a result of my blood and whiskey on the carpet.
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