Dear Business-Loan-Person-at-Some-Bank or Whatever;
How are you? I am fine. I hope to secure financing for a new venture. I believe the time is now.
It will be a showplace.
There will be a frightening band -- an assortment of gigantic animatronic animals. A horrifying gorilla will play keyboards. A disfigured mouse, dressed in a green cheerleader costume, will stand beside him.
There will be a character named "Uncle Klunk", who advises children to "Don't smoke Crayolas!" No one will understand what he's talking about.
There will be one (1) animatronic dog in a space suit. I will also feature a "bird", with only its head visible, sticking out of -- obviously -- an oil drum.
The showplace will dispense "pizza", but filth will be the order of the day. The pizza-like substance will slathered with factory-farmed hog byproducts. Children will be given pitchers -- buckets, really -- of corn syrup, then dispatched to slobber-filled game rooms.
Lights will be dimmed to inhibit squalor assessment.
Any existing lights will be blinking. There will be unending beeping and buzzing.
To further disorientation for adults, a disco ball will be used. There will be zero (0) air circulation.
"Skee-Ball" will be played, in exchange for "tickets", redeemable for plastic spider rings at the rate of 1,000,000 (one million) tickets per spider ring. Nicer prizes will be displayed, but will remain unattainable.
The customer's only discernible hope for human connection, the only apparent presence of responsibility, our lone "employee" in the building, will be crammed into a sweaty Rat costume.
The Rat will symbolize us.
Reality itself will be thrown into question. Young patrons will grow up and become disaffected, searching, "post-moderns". Inexplicably, they will attempt to smoke Crayolas.
Thank you for funding this business plan,