|Written by Chad Bradley|
Sugar Puffs are great. Long have I been a fan of the puffs of wheat in little honeyed jackets that you sell. Recent events, however, have conspired to hamper - nay, cripple - my attempts to enjoy the cereal. I will explain below.
I had always been a young child. Indeed, youth was held by many to be one of my defining features between the ages of 0 and around 12. This may not come as a surprise. What may surprise you, though, is that I was always young for my age. When I was ten, I was actually eight and a half. And at the tender age of five years old, I was in fact just over four. See?"Your cereal’s smell has remained consistent throughout my consumerdom. It’s my colleague’s fault, for pouring the poison of wee into my nose"
I’ll always remember my eighth (seventh) birthday, when I was first offered a chance to visit Jupiter. It was really just a bit of birthday fun, and not actually a visit to Jupiter, as I’m sure you can imagine. My parents filled the shed with red and orange pillows and yellow sheets, then sat in there and played Scrabble while I lay in the road with a bag on my head. As I explored the giant gas planet I discovered all sorts of strange and fantastic forms of life. I remember seeing a cloud-being eating a vortex worm. To help me, I invented names for the many creatures - and they invented names for me.
Engaging though my study of the creatures of Jupiter was, my most precious memory is of a box of Sugar Puffs, sat atop a little gas hill, shining like a beacon of civilisation in the ethereal wasteland. I flew (swam?) to the box, ripped it open, and threw its contents down my throat, so hungry was I. Ever since that day I have eaten Sugar Puffs and milk in the morning for my breakfast. Nothing can replace them. I bite at the hands of those who offer me toast.
But I can no longer eat your Sugar Puffs. It breaks my heart. It really does. A colleague of mine, who will remain nameless*, breakfasted at my home, and upon sniffing his bowl of Sugar Puffs, quipped that ‘they smell of wee’.
‘Nonsense’, replied I - but upon smelling the cereal, with wee in my mind (so to speak) I was forced to agree. And not a single puff of wheat in a little honeyed jacket has passed my lips since. I just can’t do it. And it breaks my heart.
This is, of course, not your fault. Your cereal’s smell has remained consistent throughout my consumerdom. It’s my colleague’s fault, for pouring the poison of wee into my nose. But I cannot take it out on him. He is simple.
I ask you, then, for help. To be honest, I don’t know what else to do. I fear I cannot overcome this psychological barrier to my enjoyment of Sugar Puffs. Could you find it in your hearts to introduce another cereal to me, or (if all else fails) to another breakfast option entirely? I want to stay with Quaker, since you have fed me for so long. I will not defect to Kellogg’s or Nestlé.
Please help me. My stomach is empty until lunchtime, and it makes embarrassing noises in important meetings.
*Raised by buffalo, he has no name beyond ‘Rrrrgh’,
RE: SUGAR PUFFS
Thank you for your recent correspondence regarding the above product.
Your letter made fascinating reading and we are pleased to hear that you have been a long-time fan of Quaker Sugar Puffs. However, we were very sorry to learn of your recent experience which put you off the product.
We feel that perhaps your friend was being rather mischievous in making a comment which turned out to have such a devastating effect, and naturally we are anxious to restore fully your faith in the delicious-tasting wholesomeness of our cereal.
We urge you to try and ignore your friend's opinion, and give Sugar Puffs another go! To this end, we hope you will accept with our compliments the enclosed voucher which may be exchanged for a Quaker product, together with some information on our cereal range should you wish to try another product meanwhile.
Encl: QUAKER PRODUCT RANGE INFORMATION SHEETS