To the Robot Woman who crushed my family with her purse...
QR Code Link to This Post
There is a high probability you have no idea who you are, Robot Woman, but I think deep down in your chilled heart you do. The side of your purse, which had to be filled with either $200 in quarter-dollars or depleted uranium shells, thwacked me smack in the happies while you rushed to grab a Fremont train at 12th Street around 6:30pm on 05/20.
The pain was excruciating, and yet intriguing. I often receive glancing blows below the belt on BART because I am quite tall and choose to stand, either by foolish stumbling children, the errant stroller, or the blind, but never by an ultra-dense, planet-crushing handbag. You AIMED at them, with your laser-guided metal eyes hidden behind monstrous Gucci sunglasses. I applaud your accuracy, but plead with you to take out whatever was in that damn bag, which was surely something to do with your fuel supply, or perhaps to repair one of your ambulatory motors, lest you handicap some other unfortunate soul.
Let's discuss over coffee in downtown Oakland. Tully's? Pete's? Ah there's no Pete's in downtown Oakland. Tully's?