Chef Boyardee

I hope this email finds you well, although I must admit that my own well-being has been severely compromised. You see, I recently embarked on a culinary adventure, one that promised the comforting embrace of ravioli nestled within a can of your esteemed product.

Alas, my journey took an unexpected turn and I find myself writing to you with a heavy heart and an empty stomach. Words can't express my disappointment but I'll try. Upon cracking open said can of ravioli, I was filled with anticipation. The aroma of tomato sauce danced through the air, promising a symphony of flavors.

But as I peered into the abyss of aluminum, my excitement turned to disbelief. There, floating in a crimson sea, were no raviolis, only sauce. It was as if the ravioli had staged a mutiny, abandoning ship and leaving behind their saucy captain. Now, Chef Boyardee, I understand that life is full of disappointments.

We've all been there,misplaced car keys, mismatched socks and that one sock that mysteriously disappears in the laundry. But this, my dear chef, is a travesty of epic proportions. It's like going to a pizza party and finding only crusts or attending a concert and discovering the band has been replaced by a kazoo ensemble. Atlhough, I do love the kazoo and have made money playing it on a street corner in Chicago.

I have questions, Chef Boyardee.

Important questions that keep me awake at night:

1. Did the ravioli stage a secret escape mission? Were they dissatisfied with their saucy existence and yearned for freedom?

2. Did my girlfriends cat, " Ollie" put you up to this?

Knowing I would come home from a hard days work, starving and get a good laugh at my shattered dream of a descent dinner?

3. Did the ravioli form a union and demand better working conditions? Were they tired of being squished together in a can, longing for elbow room? I implore you, Chef Boyardee, to address this crisis promptly.

We cannot let ravioli vanish into thin air like forgotten dreams. I work hard, hard for my money I tell you. I'm putting in 138 hours of work this week, need proof? I can send you my work stubs.

I'm trying to support a family. My girlfriend doesn't have a job nor does her cat. So, when I spend my money on a food product for dinner I expect the product to have food in it. I ate sauce last night, you heard me, sauce.

I have a video of my sauce bowl if you need proof of that as well. I don't want this matter to be brushed under the rug. Please let me know your thoughts on this unprofessional, devastating experience.

You should be ashamed of yourselves. Currently your # 239,000,000 fan Jimmy Brereton