Dear Popeyes Chicken, Inc.,

About 15 years ago, I bit into one of your drumsticks, only to discover that it was not fully cooked and, well to make a long story short, I said fuck y’all niggas. Fast forward to 2008 or so, I decided to let you back in my life. It was a good-n-greasy enjoyable reunion. I especially love your very economical strip combo meal with an extra biscuit. The biscuits! The fucking biscuits. Anyway, in my last recent trips to your establishment, I have been either shorted on a strip, a whole order of fries or my oh so necessary extra biscuit. I paid for that shit niggas. GIMME MY SHIT. I don’t understand the difficulty in making sure an order is fulfilled. Do you purposely hire people who are 7 brain cells away from being knuckle draggers? This letter is my global announcement to let you know that I will boycotting you and your gotdamn chicken. Peace fuckers.

Sincerely, Me.

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