February 28, 2003 (American Time)

Dear Saddam Hussein,

I am writing you in order to ask for your aid. You see, I am in need of some extra “spice” to liven up my company’s delicious menu of pizza-based foodstuffs. I have always given away a small sample of garlic sauce as a reward for ordering any food item from my chain of pizza parlors; several well-paid (and now mysteriously dead) dieticians/mathematicians have declared my special samples to have increased the rate of heart attacks in America by 72% (+/- 5%). This translates to a total of 33 million Americans who have died by my hand (a fact which doubtless you appreciate). Therefore I now believe myself to be invulnerable to criminal prosecution; however, I am decidedly not immune to sliding sales.

I need something new to give away with my pizzas. I need to generate interest in “Papa John’s pizza” once more. I need a new deadly-yet-irresistable gimmick.

I need your supply of mustard gas. It will prove to be a most spicy and mind-numbing topping.

I will pay you in women and babies. Ten thousand of them. I have no need for them any more.

I hope you will will give my offer much thought; I believe it will prove beneficial to the both of us.

Thank you for your time and cooperation.

Sincerely,

Papa John
(don’t fuck with me)