Whine & Cheese Company, Inc. - 1

Dear The Poisoned Apple,

Now there you go again, confusing me. I work up a sweat a tryin to give you a answer and all you gotta say is "Nevermind." You just tell me I waste my time a working up that good advice. Well I jest doan know what tu say. I'm jest flabergasted and a settin here wit my teeth a hangin out. I be like a calf a looking at a new gate and I jest doan know what I need tu do. This doan happen to me much, but ever once and a while they be such a problem that I just doan have no words to fit it. Like that time when Bubba fell off thu roof. Hit wuz funny, ceptin he fell on Irmalene, she' my wife, and knocked her down and we couldn't git her up. She be about 4 or 5 hunnerd pounds, I keep saying I gonna put her on the cotton scale during picking time and maybe git a right weighin on her. But, she a rite plump gal and we cudn't git her up with all that fat. SO, me and Bubba, we look at thu situation from all angles and finally we had to call Harley over at duh Texaco and brang thu wrecker over to winch 'er up. So, after we got 'er up, she say, "Wahl, what chew gotta say?" And I just didn't have anythang to say. I mean, it wuz like this, I just didn't know what I oughta say.

And it same as yor letter, I doan know what tu say. And Bubba, he doan know what tu say, too.

Whinningly Yours,
Jim Whinnery, Chief Whiner