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22 December 2023
WHERE OUR MADCAP MAN OF THE HOUR GOES POSTAL AND GETS FRANK WITH KNUCKLEHEADS IN HIGH PLACES.
This month Frank wrote to the candy men at BRACH'S.
Dear Brach's,
Your candy corn is the devil! That's right-- the devil! You rotten sons of bitches took away what’s left of my hearing! How, you may ask?
I am not what you'd call a "spring chicken". I'm 101 years young as a matter of fact. My hearing is lousy, my bones are brittle, and my neck is constantly inflamed. Still, I manage to take my dog, Poligrip, out on walks to the park, and have even begun training her to fetch a Frisbee. It's tough work, what with my brittle arm bones breaking occasionally. But it's been worth it to watch Poligrip become a champion retriever.
On our way home last Tuesday, I stopped and picked up two-pounds of your candy corn. Ever since I was a young 'un, I would curl up with a bag of candy corn and eat until I passed out. My neck was a bit sore, so I gussied up my heating pad and applied it to my neck. I ate a good 134 pieces (I always count them) and passed out with the bag of candy under my head. When I awoke, I realized that the heating pad had melted the entire contents of the bag. The pad shorted out at some point, but the remaining 500 or so pieces dried into a humongous, disc-shaped slab of sugary goop that fused itself to the side of my face. I panicked and ran about the house flailing my arms. The combination of running and the mass of candy corn on my head must have resembled a flying Frisbee, because Poligrip leapt into the air and attacked my face. With all the flailing and whatnot, my arms snapped, and I could not push Poligrip away. She ate my ear-- hearing aid and all.
So, here I am-- a deaf, 101-year-old man with one ear and a dog that has acquired the taste for human flesh. The least you can do is send me 50 free pounds of candy corn.
Sincerely,
Frank Putzerelli
DO YOU KNOW A PERSON OR COMPANY THAT YOU THINK FRANK SHOULD WRITE TO? IF SO, EMAIL HIM AT FRANK@TLCHICKEN.COM
This month Frank wrote to the candy men at BRACH'S.
Dear Brach's,
Your candy corn is the devil! That's right-- the devil! You rotten sons of bitches took away what’s left of my hearing! How, you may ask?
I am not what you'd call a "spring chicken". I'm 101 years young as a matter of fact. My hearing is lousy, my bones are brittle, and my neck is constantly inflamed. Still, I manage to take my dog, Poligrip, out on walks to the park, and have even begun training her to fetch a Frisbee. It's tough work, what with my brittle arm bones breaking occasionally. But it's been worth it to watch Poligrip become a champion retriever.
On our way home last Tuesday, I stopped and picked up two-pounds of your candy corn. Ever since I was a young 'un, I would curl up with a bag of candy corn and eat until I passed out. My neck was a bit sore, so I gussied up my heating pad and applied it to my neck. I ate a good 134 pieces (I always count them) and passed out with the bag of candy under my head. When I awoke, I realized that the heating pad had melted the entire contents of the bag. The pad shorted out at some point, but the remaining 500 or so pieces dried into a humongous, disc-shaped slab of sugary goop that fused itself to the side of my face. I panicked and ran about the house flailing my arms. The combination of running and the mass of candy corn on my head must have resembled a flying Frisbee, because Poligrip leapt into the air and attacked my face. With all the flailing and whatnot, my arms snapped, and I could not push Poligrip away. She ate my ear-- hearing aid and all.
So, here I am-- a deaf, 101-year-old man with one ear and a dog that has acquired the taste for human flesh. The least you can do is send me 50 free pounds of candy corn.
Sincerely,
Frank Putzerelli
DO YOU KNOW A PERSON OR COMPANY THAT YOU THINK FRANK SHOULD WRITE TO? IF SO, EMAIL HIM AT FRANK@TLCHICKEN.COM
artid
902
Old Image
5_2_candycorn.swf
issue
vol 5 - issue 02 (oct 2002)
section
stories