Dear Wendy's, your store also blows

(This is also the text of an actual complaint letter. And, with the completion of this one, I think I'm done griping for a while.)

While driving to Richmond, Va., I stopped with my wife and in-laws at the Wendy's in Forest, Miss. It was my idea to stop at said location, for two reasons, the first being that Wendy's burgers usually make me less sick than other fast-food restaurants. Other places' food goes through me faster than Shannen Doherty goes through boyfriends, faster than Italy goes through governments, even faster than General Motors goes through money that isn't theirs (and that's fast). Wendy's, however, is slightly easier on the digestive tract, going at about the rate Citibank goes through tax money. And, to top it off, I wanted to try a mushroom and swiss burger.

We entered the location in question to find it quite dirty and several employees shooting the bull with customers. When I got to the counter to order my mushroom and swiss, I was told--in spite of the large signs to the contrary--that they "ain't got that no mo." So all four of us ordered bacon cheeseburgers.

For some reason, I decided I'd just have the fries and didn't eat the burger. That proved to be an excellent idea, as I noticed my pug wouldn't even touch the burger. For the sake of clarity, my pug weighs just south of 30 pounds and will eat ANYTHING--especially cheeseburgers. Not this time.

Unfortunately, my wife and in-laws, who have sturdy constitutions and stomachs like steel traps, didn't take the pug's hint. They ate their burgers and, within 45 minutes, were violently ill. My in-laws found it imperative to find a restroom rapidly as their bowels demanded it. My wife, on the other hand, didn't have that exact problem; instead, she had it and the need to vomit.

Do you have any idea how long it takes to drive from northern Mississippi to central Virginia when you have to stop at every public rest stop (and several gas stations) over the course of two days? I'll give you a hint--it takes a bloody long time. When you're in the car with three people with upset stomachs and the desire never to use public rest stop toilet paper ever again, it is a friggin’ eternity. In fact, I would advise you to avoid it at all costs.

My Christmas vacation was not all it could have been and the trip down the wrong direction began at your franchise in Forest. I don’t know if anyone else suffered from food poisoning that day, but there no doubt my family did. And that, along with the baiting of a highly desirous mushroom in swiss that they had “no mo” of, made for a lousy trip. You may not care, but that location has turned me off on your product for the foreseeable future.

And, for Pete’s sake, make sure that if you have “no mo” of something, the signs come down!