Letter for help

To my Dear Sister Carol,

I know it seems I keep getting into trouble and singing to you like a canary, and you're right, but this time it's honestly not my fault. In fact, it's really no one's fault. I don't think they can be owned. Well, I'm in a bit of a pickle now. I was down by the Vlasic plant, and I parked my green mini-van by the road because I heard something make a loud thumping noise, so I wanted to get out and see what it was. Apparently I hadn't hit anything, but as I walked around the back, there was a rumble, and the ground spilt open. I quickly jumped away as the mini-van dropped into a crevasse and I heard a great splash. Apparently, the pickle plant's effluent pipe is under the roadway and there was a minor earthquake, and well, my mini-van was on top of it and then it fell, and ended up floating around in the brine. And then, well, there must have been a lot of pressure built up, because all of a sudden, there was a great blech! and a spout of brine and mushy pickles hurtled out of the fault along with my mini-van that now looks smells like a huge gherkin.

I have spoken to the car guy, Mr. Presley, about it, and he says the car is well preserved, but all shook up, and will need about $3500.00 in repairs to make it run again. He says there's nothing to do about the smell, I'll just have to live with the vi-ne-car. He says he's giving me a good dill, since he needed some juice for his pickled eggs anyway. So dear sister, I thought of you first since you're such a peach, and I'm always in a jam. It would be wonderful if you would feel toasty warm inside and loan me the bread to free my ride.

Your loving but insolvent sister,
Cherry