Let me say that, in general, I am enamored with your restaurant's premise and its food. In an ocean of burger places, I find solace in your island of roast beef. Plus, your extra large cup is made out of styrofoam, which, while it will kill the environment, doesn't "sweat" when I leave it in my dressing room during shows and get all over the place.
Because that's what I stand for, Arby's, convenience with drinks over having an earth to live on.
Nevertheless, last week, as I stopped by your establishment for a delicious beef and cheddar, I found myself repulsed. Upon receiving my food, I took it over to the condiments station to add both Horsey and Arby's sauces to my sandwich, because they, much like Red Vines and Mr. Pibb, are crazy delicious. However, when I opened the bun up, instead of seeing several pieces of roast beef, as I am accustomed to, I only came across one large-ish one. It also looked slightly off-colored, but I, like the plain girl at the bar who's had one too many and is asked to dance with a man of questionable character, decided that this was my best shot.
After condimenting it up, I headed back to my car and got back on the freeway where I proceeded to unwrap my delicious treat. I eyed it with approval, just as one might eye the "Casual Encounters" section of Craigslist if one were hopelessly depressed and/or desperate.
And I was desperate. For a hot beef injection. My mouth watered with anticipation. I took a bite, and started to chew. However, something was amiss in my mouth; it was as if there were a party in my mouth, and only ugly people were invited. You see, my experience with Arby's has conditioned me to believe that roast beef will be tender and savory. This roast beef however, was a little bit chewy and spongy. I would bite down, and my jaw would be forced back open with the sheer resistance of the meat. I felt like someone had taken squid, hammered it into a thin sheet, dyed it brownish, and stuck it on my supposed beef and cheddar sandwich.
I am not one to quit, however, so I proceeded to chew what was in my mouth until it could be swallowed, and my revulsion at doing so can only accurately be compared to what people feel when they remember that Courtney Love isn't dead yet.
I felt betrayed. I was humiliated. I was lonely. I had no sandwich to help me through my lunch hour time of need. My lunch hour will never be the same. I will be forever skeptical.
Therefore, Arby's, I'm not asking for much. I just want my innocence back.
Failing innocence, I will accept twenties, but I want you to know that you're just making it worse.
With whatever love is left in my heart,
9 hours ago