An open letter to the good people screaming/grilling outside the door of my sketchy motel room right now

Dear Yelling People:

Do you live here in this rural Motel 6, or just carry grills with you at all times in emulation of your pyromaniacal nomad ancestors? Does kindling tiny, barely controlled fires within 6 feet of vehicular gas tanks fulfill some unmet need for danger in your lives? And, most importantly, can I have a hot dog?

Regards,
Renée

Inspired by McSweeney's