Having spent all of its existence under Summer’s shadow, Winter writes Summer a letter jealously comparing all the great things that Summer has and Winter doesn't — including having its own beer, Corona Extra, a beer made of Summer. Because if there’s anyone who knows all the joys and beauty of Summer better than anyone else, that’s Winter.

Dear Summer,

Where do I start?

While you’re out there enjoying the sun, I’m here shivering my icebergs off.

And is it just me, or does the sun stay out way later with you?

You have barbecues. And bonfires.

My fires are for, you know, not freezing.

Forgive me for sounding jealous, but people can swim in your water.

They slip and fall on mine.

And do you know how many songs have been written about you?

I have poetry. Try dancing to poetry.

And your clothes. Don’t get me started on your clothes.

You even have your own beer.

How am I supposed to compete with that?

But you know what? People love you.

And that’s something I just can’t argue with.

So let’s hang out.

You bring the beer and I’ll bring the ice.

Warmest regards, Winter.

P.S. Fall says hi.