Dear Mr. Fortune Cookie Writer:
This past warm evening I had the unfortunate experience of opening one of your delicious cookies filled with what can only be described as one of the dumbest “fortunes” I’ve ever read in my life.
Let me quote from this waste of a dead tree: “Every good friend was once a stranger.”
Who in the holy elephant balls do you think you are?
You have officially burst my “where do fortune cookie fortunes come from?” bubble.
I used to believe you sat in your very Asian outfit, cross legged, at the top of some 415 stairs, with a temple-like structure protecting you from the wrath of the sun-god’s beam. Your eyes would be closed as you contemplate the universe.
Just the slightest sneeze from you would cause meaningless planets like Pluto to disappear from existence.
Men from around the world would wait centuries to just see you in person as you slowly open your eyes, take a slow deep breath, and utter something so profound the only possible place for it to be repeated would be on a tiny piece of paper that ultimately gets machine-crammed into a shitty stale cookie wrapped in non-biodegradable plastic.
But last night that image of you got ripped from my child-like, immature brain and replaced with the picture of some 19-year-old New Jersey fake-tanned, gold-chain wearing, MTV-obsessed universe reject pushing a button that resulted in random words being imprinted on gently used toilet paper that’s immediately jammed into the previously mentioned shitty stale cookie wrapped in non-biodegradable plastic.
It’s because of you that Santa is now dead to me.
The Easter Bunny….also dead.
I don’t know at what point your lazy, egotistical ass sold out to the big corporations, but just know, dear sir, I will never…NEVER eagerly open one of your disastrous desserts again.
From now on I’m gonna be all, “no cookie for me?”
I hope your ancestors are looking down in disappointment at your douchey-ass right now. Additionally, I hope your rice burns for ever meal hence forth.
Thanks for ruining my life.
Why Is Daddy Crying