Whine & Cheese Company, Inc. - 1

Dear Mr. Crabenni,

Yeah, I wus a little taken aback by the level of the linguistic clacification in that last letter, too. Whur you learned to talk lack 'at?

Now, 'bout that genie. I understand what fore you talking about. See, I thought you thu one Bubba pawned that messed up genie off on. But hit's the little man what owns the lit'le bitty pianner man. Wahl, ther's a sucker born ever minute.

You know, I ain't never met me a bartender. We don't have them kind here in Red House. Jest go git what ya want and put thu money in thu till. So, you live off what people give yuh? Yo momma probly has tu hide her head in shamr and must be quite humblin fer you tuh do 'at. Me, I couldn't do that. No sir-ree bob! I work fer my money. By thu sweat o my brow I wurks ever day.

So, now you done got suckered into a taking that genie? He ain't deef, he jest a playing lack he deef. You git yu a sharp knife and say you gonna cut his ears off. He'll jump up ther right quick and let you know that he ain't deef.

Say, do you git all thu licker you can drank or do they make you pay fer it at the bar?

Lack I said, you feed that genie cheese fer a yeur and he start to whomping up them wishes fer ya. And if he don't, then you kin throw a contest and let sumbody win that sucker. If you don't want tuh do that, you drop that thang in a croker sack and tie it up real tight nen throw it in the lake. Just don't drap 'im in Red House Lake.

Well, I wish I could go on flapping my gums wit chew more, but I got wurk to do.

Whinningly Yours,
Jim Whinnery, Head Whiner