Dear Robotic Hippo Outside The Rainforest Cafe Across From A Shoe Store I Frequent,

I hate you. I hate you with the fiery passion of a thousand suns. MUST you robotically howl and chuckle every 45 seconds? It scares me tremendously. What did I do to deserve this aversive situation?! I'm just trying to buy some mary janes! Your haunting sounds and mechanical movements make me want to crawl into my father's arms or bury my face in the most proximal stranger's armpit. I had a traumatic childhood experience at a theme park with beasts like you, ok? Let it be known that I would much prefer Chinese water torture to hearing your satanic cackle one more time.

Hating It,
A