You are cordially invited to sit without moving during the entire train ride, possibly not even blinking, although your eyelids are so low you might actually be asleep. As you are approximately eight feet tall it would be helpful if you could extend every possible inch of your shanks and hooves out into the aisle. Every passenger on the train arrives hoping for an obstacle course to limber up on and if it comes with glares that are somehow simultaneously disinterested and extremely hostile that would be a bonus.
Please bring along a girl chewing gum and texting who sits forward like she is trying to lay an egg and talks to her text messages ("whhaaaat, girl, no way, etc"). Maybe she could look at you occasionally expecting some reaction, but of course she won't get one, because you are immovable obstacle course statue teen.
You are cordially invited to the scavenger hunt of a lifetime inside that bag. We hope you have found the loudest possible paper bag, because the whole car wants to hear everything as you clean out what must be an Augean Stable of crinkling papers and candy bar wrappers. As you are treating us all to your symphony of searching, I hope that you can find the time to drop wadded up tissues all over the floor of the train and kick them around us.
Whatever spore you've secreted onto those tissues deserves to go rollicking across our shoe tops and tumbling into purses and laptop bags. How can we not be lulled to bliss by the rocking of the car and your 100-decibel siren's song of cellophane and frustrated muttering? Thank you and please continue.
And you thought women had one-dimensional script intros that treated them like sex objects. Ewoks have it even worse.
No one seems to like the new Doom box art. But it's still the same old Doom Guy under that space marine helmet. Right?
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