A Letter to Sonic Drive-In

Dear Sonic,

Over the last three years I've spent living in the Glass City, I've literally seen hundreds of your commercials. And last time I checked, commercials were designed to sell. Well, congratulations, Sonic -- you've sold me! You've sold me, and THEN some. I mean, your Supersonic Chili Cheeseburger? It looks friggin fantastic. Oh, and your breakfast? Shit, everything looks amazing. Cinnabites? Orgasmic-looking, if there is such a thing. And your commercials? Hell, they're actually kinda funny. I mean, sometimes I actually laugh -- not something I normally do when I see fast-food commercials (except maybe for the guy who yells "Get ME A WHOPPER" -- that shit is hilarious).

You know, sometimes I'll eat at shitty restaurants with shitty-tasting food and shitty service and shitty commercials --- just because I'm hungry. But when I can help it, I'll go to one that actually looks good AND has food that tastes good. And if it has actually decent commercials? Well, that's the tri-fecta right there!! I'm sold.

AND you guys are open 24 hours? Holy shit!! Jackpot! On late nights at 4AM after me and my free-form Jazz trio, the "Ray Barry Connection," finishes our set -- we would LOVE to go to your restaurant and eat chili dogs and fries and then wash it down a few of your ice-cold Cranberry Blast Slushees or whatever the fuck they're called!! What a thirst quencher (I bet)!!

That being said ...

Why are you fucking with me, Sonic? Hmm? Why? Seriously, is this some kind of joke? Is it a joke you're playing on me, because if it is -- it ain't funny. You go and over-saturate my TV with all your enticing and comical ads/commercials on a near-daily basis, making your food look oh so delicious, giving me wicked hunger pangs, selling me on this shit repeatedly --- only to have me discover that your closest establishment is 178 goddamn miles away? Why? WHY DO THAT TO ME??? Whats the point of that? What, in case I just happen to have have 2 HOURS AND 53 MINUTES TO KILL?




It's ridiculous. It's like a taste-bud cock-tease. You can't dangle delicious food in front of me day in and day out, only to tell me, "hey, sorry kid -- we're not in your city. Actually, we're not even in your area code. Sorry."

That shit ain't right Sonic!! It just ain't right.

But I happen to be a man who believes in a certain moral code: An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. So, you know what I'm gonna do? I'll tell ya what I'm gonna do: See, I got this friend in the sex industry, okay? And she's got the sexiest voice I've ever heard, no lie. So every single time I see one of your commercials on TV, I am going to have this girl -- in her sexiest, most erotic-sounding phone-voice -- CALL UP one of your establishments and do dirty nasty sex talk to the first guy who answers the phone. Manager, guy on drive-thru, whoever. And she's gonna moan and giggle and hum like only she knows how, and she's gonna get him ALL revved-up, maybe even convince him that she's a customer and she saw him and thinks he's hot and now she wants to give him a mind-blowing mouth party out in the parking lot or something ... and she's going to mind-fuck them like you've been mind-fucking ME. And THEN WE'LL SEE WHO'S LAUGHING, SONIC!!!!! THEN WE'LL SEE!!!

So here's the bottom line: you either open up a Sonic Restaurant in my area of Toledo ... or all your male employees will be walking around on their shifts with huge, aching boners, waiting for some sultry-sounding vixen to meet them in the parking lot, like she promised, only to never show up. Picture the boner-ific chaos that will follow. Is that what you really want? Is it? Well, think it over. I'll be awaiting your reply.

Your move, creep.

-Ray