Wetzel’s Pretzels, You Will Not Be Spared From Our Millennial Bloodlust

McSWEENEY'S INTERNET TENDENCY'S PATREON

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During the 2010s, we millennials were accused of killing everything in our path, from department stores to hotel chains to the institution of marriage.

Our alleged death cry rattled institutions across the world, a murderous rampage against everything from stiletto heels to the American Dream.

Now, we’re here to confess.

We did it.

All of it.

We killed diamonds. We killed golf. We killed countless chain restaurants and luxury travel brands.

We will kill again.

And now we’re coming for you, Wetzel’s Pretzels.

If you thought your family-friendly pretzel chain was safe from our generational massacre, think again.

We have an entitlement for destruction and we will not rest until Wetzel’s Pretzels joins Applebee’s, bar soap, travel agencies, and the Toyota Scion in a mass grave deeper than our student loan debt.

Don’t believe us? Call our bluff. We’ve laughed over the ashes of the Big Mac and the McWrap, and we won’t stop until Wetzel’s head sits alongside Ronald McDonald’s on a spike.

The blood of shopping malls, business casual attire, and light yogurt are on our hands. Hashtag murder.

Fabric sheets won’t soften the calcified pit of hatred lodged deep in our souls because we killed those too.

Wetzel’s Pretzels, your reckoning has come.

You might argue that wage stagnation, higher education costs, and skyrocketing housing prices prevented us from affording things like starter homes or diamonds.

Or that a desire for sustainable, socially conscious brands led us away from legacy chains and processed food.

Well, you’d be WRONG. The shredded menus of Buffalo Wild Wings, Chili’s, and The Cheesecake Factory hang from our slaughter vests, and we’re hungry for more.

So what to do, Wetzel’s? Maybe it’s time to crack open a beer and wait for this to blow over? Too bad. We killed beer.

Time to take a vacation? Watch a football game? We killed both of those.

We will roam the dead grasses of golf courses and college sports arenas. We will take selfies from the backseats of taxi carcasses. We will live-tweet our blood orgy as brick-and-mortar banks, stationery shops, and post offices crumble in our wake.

And you’re next, Wetzel’s. Your obituary will be our Instagram story.