You have done some pretty damn amazing things, like making Paris Hilton and supplying the world with the raw materials to manufacture shoes. You have presided over the creation of so many people that by now, it stands to reason that you would get it right. In fact, you probably do in most cases- most people have some kind of redeeming quality; be that physically (there are many tall people around) or in the way of talent- lots of people can sing, for example.
Unfortunately, you really fucked up when you made me. Not only do I have the body of a blubbery penguin, the brain of a potato, with a face that looks like it has been run over by a 4WD with acid on its wheels; I also have no talent whatsoever! How could you do this to me?
So, god, you may be wondering why I am writing to you. After all, what's done is done and there's not much that can be done to fix me. I would like to know about your refund policy- is it too late to exchange myself for someone better? Or at least someone skinny? To be honest, I'll settle for pretty much anything, the only way you could possibly make me fatter and stupider is if you reincarnated me into a hippopotamus, and even that would not be without its benefits.
A swift reply to my pertinent enquiry would be much appreciated.
Regards,
Natasha
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