#398thneedvilledrive

Dear “Ineffably e”,

There’s no great need to customize a Thneed, cuz my Thing can change into anyThing a body requires. You’d be hard-pressed to figure out a form or function the plain old original Thneed can’t fill. Still, there is a demand out there for personalization (mostly through different proportions or mixed materials) and I’m happy to oblige. Sometimes a customer with impeccably good taste will request a reproduction of some or other Thneed gear I designed for myself that they caught in a photo. Some want their thneed made with an exotic flavoring or scented with something other than butterfly milk. These are not off the ol’ Assembly Line but knitted by hand to the measurements in question and sold at a premium. The clients of this couture made-to-order division of the company include celebrities and notables from far and wide.

Besides that, thneeds altered to adapt more easily to a particular service (mops, beds, stuffed animals, nylons, upholstery, floss, curtains, food, toothbrushes…) can be spotted readymade on a store shelf near you, since they’re all featured in the Thneed Inc product lines. Companies can order these in bulk if they need a whole mess to outfit their employees with, but a few times a company needed something specific outside of what is already offered. In these cases, too, we were cool with whipping up whatever, according to their specifications. People know my patented Thneed fibers are second to none when it comes to quality, usability, gentleness, absorption, durability, a thorough clean, you name it.

The funkiest customized thneed ever conceived was—and it’s a tough one to call—a swanky little number laced with 24 karat gold thread and diamond dust. It also had to glow in the dark and reveal a Peter Max painting under black light, while smelling like Chanel No. 5. Oh yeah, and it had to be crocheted instead of knitted.

The requester is under wraps, but suffice it to say the cat was loaded.

Yours truly,

Dear Everyone,

I’m getting the feeling we might be wanting some different Thneed-types here. Just a hunch. If I’m right, not a problem. Lucky for you, variety in the marketplace is the spice of—…the marketplace!

Thneeds come in several colors, all naturally produced by the plants themselves. Firstly, there’s of course pink, my bestseller and the most recognizable representative for all Thneeds:

Then there’s purpley, orangey, yellowy, and reddish. As best I can figure it, “fuchsia” is a sort of a variation of purpley.

Now, I was mightily thrilled to find the perfect material for my Thneed in the brightly-colored tufts of the Truffula Trees©. I’d never seen anything so cheery or gay in my everloving life, except maybe in a taffy or sorbet. Anyway, that cinched the deal on Truffula Tufts© being the choosiest choice for my invention, as far as I’m concerned. In the age of plastics, I knew my new product had to pop. And these trees were doin’ that all by themselves!

But now we’re in a whole new age, and only five original colors just don’t cut it these days. The world’s ready for expanding options, to get turned on and way out with kaleidoscopes of crazy looks. I owe it to my customer base to provide whole new Things to try on for size.

In that interest, the newest diversification measure of my product offerings is a whole new color range. That’s blue, green, white, brown, black, and tie-dye!

If there’s any other kinds or colors (or patterns or pictures or, perhaps, pop art) of Thneed you think would make a cherry addition to my line-up, drop me a line and I’ll give it a look-over.

Yours truly,

Dear Anony,

I’d like to tell you all a story. It’s a fine illustration of my relationship with my family.

See, we didn’t always get on.

Way back in the days before sliced bread and frozen tv dinners and instant coffee, there was a little old cabin tucked in the trees on a mountainside and I lived in it. Me and my folks, that is. We were sharecroppers down south, in the woods just west of Kinchafoonee. The place was wanting of electricity, running water, and right about anything else you can think of.

Here you go! I hope you enjoy~!

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Dear Dakota,

Hey, I’m set. All the hoping you’ve gotta do is hope these beauties last the next few seconds. Much obliged, sugar pie!

Marshmallows’ve near always been my favorite confection, though I sure am partial in particular to these cool concoctions right here. You’d suppose a connoisseur like myself would happen around to a marshmallow-brownie combination sometime during his life, but, what do you know. I mightn’t’ve never come across them if it hadn’t been for you. The universe is full of mysteries as rich as they are vexing, and the only thing man can do is—well, I ain’t got a singular clue but in this case I’m gonna eat me some of them brownies.  

Yours truly,

Dear Dakota,

Baby. Please. You never have to ask. Don’t you know that marshmallows are the balm to this man’s weary soul? If you should have the inclination, send it right on over to Ye Annex, your very own verified address for packages or veritable victuals of any variety. Same goes for all of y’all reading: if you’ve anything for the Thing King, such as whodads or doodads or desserts or whosmawhatsits or desserts or thingamabobs or, say, desserts—you can send ‘em to me directly at that address.

Thank you kindly for the generous offer, little Miss Jenkins! It ain’t every day a man can obtain a delicacy of this order for nothing at all.

Yours truly,

Dear Miss Jaimie,

Another letter from you, and another message having something to with food. I like you. You’re speakin’ my language. But, Jaimie, I read this one once, and I read it again, because I figured I misread it, and then I read it a third time, and I tried to understand it, and I don’t reckon I misread it, and correct me if I did—but why would anybody eat a piece of toast upside-down? Maybe I’m outta touch, maybe this is one of those cryptic messages y’all’ve sent me that means something different. But if not, why? Why eat your toast butter-side down? What’s the benefit? So you can hold it like that and get your fingers all buttery?

To make it easier for it to land that way?

For an unnecessarily messy eating experience?

To adhere to a smooth surface?

I mean, help me out here. I’m old enough to remember when sliced bread came out, and I gotta say this is anything but the best idea since.

Yours truly,

Dear Anony,

First off. Friends, I’m sitting here with a piping hot mug of Dr. Pepper thinking about that real gone cat all dressed up in red who dropped off thousands of Thneeds last night and it is very heartwarming. Congratulations to the nice kids who got ‘em. How did I know? Oh, I happen to have it on good authority.

As to the sender. So you don’t think green is creative, huh? Well, that’s your opinion, you’re entitled to it. But I’ll have to respectfully disagree with you on that one. Today especially. Y’see, green is the color of nature, youth, wealth, and, well—the Holidays. That’s probably due to several traditions, the first being the bringing in of evergreen trees from the cold forests to the merry yuletide hearth. Another being the song “Greensleeves”, which King Henry the VIII wrote about some chick he was hung up on named Anne Boleyn. Incidentally, “Greensleeves” is also something folks called me way back when. I picked the color out ‘cause of its character. It’s got that bright liveliness that’ll jump out at you in a world filled up with black suits, but still classic, y’know, something formally refined in its vibration. Due in part to the aforementioned. Kinda wild, but not too weird. In the new old-fashioned way.

Anyway, a very merry number-8-parenthesis to you too, Anony.

Yours truly,