Dear Whoppers,

I just wanted to let you know that it’s a good thing I don’t have access to a candy aisle right now because I do some major damage to you. I’m very irritated at work and all I can think about is how I’d like to get my hands on you and your milk carton-like packaging, and pour you into my hand. It wouldn’t take me long to cram a whole bunch of you into my mouth and gnash away on your chocolatey malted goodness. I could seriously go through the entire carton and I wouldn’t feel a bit bad (except for maybe the ensuing stomach ache). You are so lucky that all I have at my disposal is an apple. You may want to consider taking out a restraining order on me because there is a Quik Trip on my way home and I know that you are there, mocking me while I sit in my cave office. Quitting time is just 2 ½ hours away…consider yourself warned.

All my love,