There once was a time, long long ago in the misty forest of times past, when Tin Soldier was a profitable newspaper. We raked in sponsorship deals and had more ads than articles per page. Some called us sellouts, some called us a coupon flyer, but we knew better than them: we had found success. But times changed. People stopped reading the newspaper and brand deals stopped coming in, what could we do but watch in horror as our profits dropped. No more Bordeaux wine with our steak at weekly meetings, gone was the penthouse suite where my office had 1000 ft2 to sprawl over Uptown Waterloo. It was a sad time for us all, learning to live like normal people, buying grocery items that were *gasp* on SALE.
Since then we’ve had to slowly build up our image and reputation, convince people that the Tin Soldier is worth reading once more. Once again we started gaining industry contacts and people began once more to place ads in our amazing pages. Imagine our horror, then, at finding out one particular ad had gone unpaid, one ad which could have changed the course of our lives forever. The ad that would have pulled us out of debt and back into that life of luxury we loved so much. A three-page colour ad with holographic ink, 3-D capabilities, and moving pictures. This ad, worth upwards of $30mil, would have saved us from the life of mediocrity in which we now live. Instead, unpaid, it has caused our final ruin.
I write this from my sickbed where I expect to perish. In the poverty-stricken conditions I have been forced to accept, in the Laurier ghetto, I contracted a series of painful and probably deadly diseases which have caused my final ruination. May my successor have more success than I. Make Tin Soldier Great Again, Editor. I have failed.
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