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Letter To Pepsi from Gregg "Indiana" Hart

Thought I'd share something fun today.  This is a letter I wrote to Pepsi when one of my cans of Diet Mt. Dew had almost no soda in it.  There were no visible holes in the can, and the can was completely sealed.   I'll let you know if I hear anything back. 

Dear Pepsi,

I am an avid fan of one of your products, Diet Mt. Dew.  I am writing to inform you about the near tragic accident I almost had with a can of your product.

You see, on weekends, I excavate old tombs and burial chambers.  I take three cans of Diet Mt. Dew with me on every trip into a tomb.  I take two to drink (one for the way in, one for the way out), and one, of course, to use as a weight as it happens to be the exact same size, mass and density as the obligatory crystal that lies on a pedestal at the very end of every ancient burial chamber. 

Of course, as luck would have it, the first one I picked out of my backpack was as I would have expected it to be: cold, refreshing and full of the required amount of caffeine needed to spelunk further into the chamber.  The second one didn’t fare so well, unfortunately. Let me tell you what happened.

As I approached the pedestal with the beautiful, glowing crystal just waiting to be placed in our local museum so thousands of people could take in its glory, I removed the second can of Diet Mt. Dew from my backpack.  Something wasn’t right.  I have partaken in literally hundreds, if not thousands of cans of Diet Mt. Dew in my extensive career of crystal liberation, and I could tell that something was amiss.  Unfortunately, in the dark, damp and dank cavern, I couldn’t place just what was out of the ordinary.  So I said a quick prayer and carefully removed the crystal from the pedestal with my right hand while placing the can of Diet Mt. Dew on the pedestal with my left hand.  

All seemed ok.  I placed the crystal in my backpack when I heard it:  the unmistakable sound of stone against stone.  I knew it was too late.  The trap had been sprung.  I looked up and the ceiling, complete with the practically required spikes was coming down towards me.  I reached behind me to grab the can off the pedestal and was fortunately able to dive through the small hole back into the previous passage before I was skewered like last night’s shish-ka-bob. 

Fortunately, I noticed that my fedora hat, which I have treasured since my pops gave it to me as a young child, had fallen off my head in the process and I was barely able to reach back in and retrieve it from the holey fate of Swiss cheese.

Thinking I was in the clear, I started to make my way back out of the cavern, since I had my treasure in hand when I started to feel the very ground underneath my feet rumbling.  Panicked, I looked behind me and would you believe a giant boulder the size of a small building was rolling towards me.  Needless to say, I ran.  I ran hard.  

I honestly believe that if it wasn’t for my above average coordination and my uncanny ability to use a whip to swing across ravines and climb up the very face of a cliff, I would have never made it out of there alive. 

Would you believe that when I made it to the light of day, there were locals waiting for me?  Apparently, me setting off this trap alerted them of my presence, and just in case I made it out, they were there to take the very thing I treasured most from me.

No, not the crystal, but my third can of the precious Nectar Of The Gods, my Diet Mt. Dew.  I tried to hand them the crystal and they just laughed at me, muttering something that I was able to roughly translate as “That old fake?  We put that in there to lure you so we could get a can of this heavenly concoction that tempts our very senses every time you come near.” 

They then demanded that I supply them with a large quantity of said concoction or they would make me very sorry if I did not.  I am hoping that somehow, you might be able to help an old explorer out.  My wife and two beautiful daughters will feel safer at night, knowing that the vicious head hunters have been satisfied by your product and forever converted from cannibalism to Diet Mt. Dewism.

Once they finally let me go under threat that they are watching and waiting, I took the time to examine the can that almost did me in.  I kid you not, the thing was sealed and there were no visible holes in it whatsoever, but it contained mere drops of dew rather than the 12 plus ounces it was supposed to contain.  

In the meantime, I would suggest you make sure none of these head hunters have infiltrated your line and perched themselves under the machines that are supposed to fill cans rather than head hunter’s mouths.

If you find it in your hearts to keep me safe from an angry mob of cannibals, please contact me at midiboygregg@gmail.com or traditional mailing address of:

Gregg Hart

[gave my address and cell # here]

Thank you for your time, and I do hope my story made you smile and inspired you to live for every moment and remember the truly important things in your life other than corporate pressures. 

Sincerely,

Gregg “Indiana” Hart

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