You sexy, sexy supermarket.
My Dearest Weshop,
You are the jewel of Middletown, the exemplar of goodness, the light of my life. You’re not like other campus supermarkets: You have personality. You’re so smart and funny! You mean so much to me.
We’ve shared so many moments together. Remember all those times I stopped by to buy an Arizona Iced Tea? And there was that one time I bought vanilla extract for like, 15 points. All for you. I love you, Weshop.
I’ve given you so much. (Because I’m a nice guy!) But now I hope you’ll help me. Because if you want to take this obsessive, parasocial relationship to the next level, there’s just one thing I want from you…
Lox.
Lox.
Lox.
LOXLOXLOXLOX.
Mmm.
After all I’ve done for you, can’t you do this one *tiny* favor for me? Fulfill me, Weshop. My tongue craves the sensation of savory smoked salmon. I want to taste that soft, salty goodness. I want fish in my mouth.
And yes, I know that Swings occasionally offers bagel and lox, but it’s just not the same. They’re such a tease, only offering salmon on certain days, and only during lunchtime. Meanwhile, my craving knows no bounds. I want to eat lox at dinner. I want to eat lox before bed. I want to eat lox in the dark, quiet hours of the early morning. Really, I want to eat lox for all of my meals.
Price is no object. 15 points? 25 points? 100 points? It’s all monopoly money anyways — an artificial construct of university life that pales in comparison to the ambrosia of the gods. Take all of my points, if you want! But give me lox in return.
So please, Weshop. I am yours, if you’ll have me. Give me lox, and allow me to fulfill my destiny. Give me lox, and let me be your simp.
With the utmost affection,
Your Humble Servant
PS: While we’re on the topic, you should start carrying bagels too.