Dear Stir Chinese Restaurant in Seattle,
I ate dinner there today. You probably remember me. I was the only
person in the entire restaurant, which, at the time, seemed strange. Now
it feels more like a kind of foreboding, which I missed.
I am writing this while perched uncomfortably on my toilet. I am
remembering your delicious General Tso's Chicken with steamed rice and
egg flower soup, with each contraction of my bowels.
I would enjoy sending you the bill for the two rolls of toilet paper I
am using, per hour, and the reduction of my pride. But on what scale
does one measure dignity? I have also lost a lot of weight on your
"Chinese Cleanse" but all you will receive is a Single Finger Thank You
At first, I was excited to have "beat the dinner rush" in your
restaurant. But now the only rush I feel, is coming from your food,
exiting my body. My stinging anus would like to point out that although
people pay a lot of money to go on diets like this one, I doubt that
they can sense parasites building little red-roofed pagodas in their
I am certain I can imagine the result, were I to mistakenly laugh. Or cough. Or sneeze.
I will endeavor to refrain from partaking in any of those activities. I
would be much like a filling water balloon were you to remove its
rubbery sphincter from the spigot and then release your finger grip on
the balloon's neck.
Have you ever seen a shuttle launch?
Thank you for the excellent service though. My meal of intestinal
parasites was delivered quickly and with a smile. Although I have never had cholera,
I now understand how people die of it. Thank you for letting me see
what it is like to live in other countries! It has been an exciting