Sweet Summer Sweat

Dear Manager:

I am very unsatisfied with your hotel. First of all, there is a weird smell in the air every night, I think it’s dope. Secondly, mirrors on the ceiling might be fine for you hippies out here in the desert, but where I come from the only one I want watching over me at night is the Lord. As for the complimentary pink champagne and mini-bar, Satan himself would be ashamed of such decadence. Why don’t you ask him when you join him in Hell?

I don’t know what kind of operation you’re running here, but I know the woman next us has boys in and out of her room all night. A lot of boys. She tells us they are friends, but I know they are fornicating. I see them dancing in the courtyard and I know.

On top of it, the food is terrible. We ordered a well-done steak from room service, and when we got it, it was so rare I had to stab it with my knife a few times to make sure it was dead. My wife has an irritable bowel, and you can bet you’ll be hearing from our lawyers if she so much as burps funny in the next few days.

Finally, we have tried to get away from this viper pit several times now, but the man at the desk (I think he is a Jew, by the way) keeps telling us that although we can check out any time we want, we can never leave. This is unacceptable. I insist you rectify this situation immediately or I will call corporate headquarters and have you fired.

We are very disappointed. All the folks back home said the Hotel California was such a lovely place. Well, rest assured we will NOT be back.

Sincerely,
Mr. and Mrs. Edward T. Slocum
Peppertown, Indiana