Glarb's World
The Complaint Department
Dear Mr. Glarb,
As per your recommendation my family and I took the tour your so-called “Travel Writer” suggested at the Laconic Crystal Caves at Balthus Landing in Sector 6 of Nebulicon. Before we even got to the trailhead our transport was stopped by bandits posing as security officers. We were summarily shaken down for all our worldly possessions, including our clothes. They even had the audacity to steal the tour transport and leave us in the middle of nowhere. When my Uncle Smiff complained, they told him the robbery was part of the tour package! Yet there is nothing about it in the brochure!
I am beset with anger at this very serious oversight. The tour company has since moved and we have no way of contacting them. On top of that, I’ve not seen a single article since from your “Travel Writer”. What kind of scam is your publishing company running anyway? I’ve tried canceling my subscription six times only to get error messages, and now I’m receiving six copies of your magazine a month. And I’m PAYING SIX TIMES AS MUCH! This is a lot of CRAP! I’M TAKING THIS UP WITH THE BETTER BUSINESS BUREAU AND ALERTING MY SECTION GOVERNOR.
NOTE: We did enjoy the “Plantain ala Moat with Strawberry Swamp Grass” dessert recipe.
Yours,
Klarol Sourson
Dear Mr. Sourson,
Sounds like you had an adventure, my friend. Something you’ll be able to brag about for years. You should be kissing Mr. Cosgrove Togeet’s (former Travel Writer’s) butt, but you can’t. Why? Because he’s in quarantine until there’s a cure for the TWISTING disease that ravaged* the planet Pizzle. That man, that “Travel Writer”, is a saint. You, well, I wouldn’t want to imply that you’re a mollycoddled bedwetter but if the diaper fits — know what I mean?
What I’m trying to say is — you don’t have a problem. Never had a problem. You don’t KNOW problems.
THIS, this is a real problem: My department has been hijacked by a squirrelly twerp named SMEG HAARPES. A so-called efficiency expert foisted on me without any knowledge beforehand. Boom! Out of nowhere , there he is, a productivity nerd hired to modernize my department.
This moony whiz kid (probably some muckity-muck’s nephew) shyly tells me he’s going to “help” transfer all the hard copy complaint letters to HOLOSTORAGE.
Oh.
No.
That ain’t happening.
Three dimensional data storage is for wimps and wussies. A proper complaint letter should be held in your fist and given a good shake now and again. Tangible, you know? Weighty. Offered up on at least 20lb bonded.
I mean, sure, our filing system is a little unwieldy. But that’s not what this is all about. I know what they’re doing — Prime Editor Fardiwig and his cronies — they’re edging me out. They think I’m too old for the job. Well, let me tell you, at 400 years of age I’m in my prime. By gravy, I’ve still got my own teeth. And I bite. They can’t just hand me a severance package, gift me with a watch, some cake, a pat on the back, then show me the door. I’m too vital to get the boot. I won’t stand for it!
I built this department from scratch. My blood and tears soak the walls of this filthy, run-down, soul-crushing rathole. Dammit, I was tied to my desk during the Third Colonial Conflict. Bombs were going off outside, the station shook, windows shattered, there was shrieking, and zap-zap-zapping. But I never stopped working. I poured over every stinking complaint posted. And I didn’t complain about it, even once.
You can bet your ass Fardiwig and his toadies are going to hear me complain NOW! That four-eyed dweeb with his blue-green argon beam splitters has to go. This is MY department. And if they won’t see things my way, they better be prepared to drag me out in handcuffs, stuff me in the trunk of a car, drive me out to the woods, and drop me off like an unwanted pet or a pink-haired stepchild.
Holostorage — HA!
Hisses and kisses, GLARB — Still in Complaints (damn right I am)
Oh, yes, Mr. Sourson, the “Plantain ala Moat with Strawberry Swamp Grass” is delightful. We’re so glad you liked it.
* Thousands of blighted Pizzlitalians are tied in knots. Literally corkscrewed. Some are forced to — oh, you don’t want to know how these people relieve themselves. It’s messy. That’s all you need to know.
PLEASE GIVE
We ask that you please give to the LET’S CURE THE TWIST fundraising campaign. Funds will be used to pay medical and research costs for the benefit of the plagued people of Pizzle.
Pictured: Journalist, Cosgrove Togeet
Unsnarl soon, old friend.
Praying for Cosgrove’s speedy recovery ❤️🩹