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Dear Tim Horton’s Person:
I recently had the misfortune of trying your new English Toffee Cookie. The experience was, to say the least, extremely disagreeable. I like your English toffee cappuccino. I like English toffee ice cream. It would therefore come as no surprise for you to learn that I like English toffee. It was, however, a surprise to me that I very much disliked your English toffee cookie.
The experience of eating one of your English Toffee Cookies can be referred to as unpleasant; in the same way that being buried alive under a pile of rotting dead toads can be referred to as unpleasant. It would be an understatement to say that your English Toffee Cookies are disgusting. It would be similar to referring to the bombing of Hiroshima as a “tad unpleasant”. If given the choice between suicide, and eating an English Toffee Cookie, I would, of course, eat the cookie. I’m not insane.
But I would seriously have considered the options.
If asked to explain the taste of your English Toffee Cookie to someone lucky enough to have never tried one, I would have to compare it to the taste of a dried sponge, soaked in perfume, and then baked to perfection in a compost heap. On the big list of Gross Things to Eat, it would fall squarely between “oil-soaked Styrofoam” and “your own anus”.
What, dear God, were you thinking?
I can only assume that someone was actually responsible for creating the English Toffee Cookie; most likely a mid-to-high level executive with more clout than working brain cells and/or taste buds. As all executives should be held responsible for their decisions, I suggest that this individual be dealt with in order with the magnitude of his crime. I believe a suitable punishment would be to confine him to a stalled elevator, alone with a flatulent Jehovah’s Witness, who happens to sell life insurance. For eighteen hours.
Then, please fire him.
