It is With the Deepest Regret.

To,
Many.

Subject:
Termination of Services.

The Pied Piper of Hamlin:
I find that your flute is an unnecessary waste of state economy, and a nuisance to local residents, no less. Besides, any instrument that does not get adults to follow you around, is played in vain.
PS: I have grown-ups at my feet all the time. Have you ever seen a flute in my hands?

Gepedo:
And here they thought you were a good puppeteer. They were blinded by your absurdly sentimental story of transformation, weren't they? I have a better card to play. They call it a Foreign Passport. I don't need you anymore, because I can puppet far, far better. The trick, is to not let anyone know whose hands pull the strings. You know the rules. You're wooden puppet became a real boy? Well, I can swing it vice versa.
PS: Try not to get so attached to your damn puppet next time.

Ariel:
You are hereby banished to the ocean for the rest of your existence, for insulting the country's customs and sacred tradition by wearing clothes that I could only imagine you picked hastily off a beach. Also, you are not to get your voice back. I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't like people in my state having voices.
PS: While you're at it, I'd also like your Prince. I can scream louder than you, now.

Thumbelina:
Run for your life. No, no reason. You're just really small, and I can squish you. That makes me feel powerful. So get away before it's too late.

The Fairy GodMother:
No more magic for you. That's my turf. Hand over your wand.

Anybody whose surname doesn't start with a 'G' like mine does:
I don't like you. Boo-yah.

Your services have been greatly appreciated.
Sincerely,
S.

(Note: This letter has been sanctioned by the Prime Minister's office with no prior influence, and free of personal or miscellaneous bias.)