Last night you ran over my cherished cat of six years. IF you EVEN care, his name was Percy, a handsome hunter, a clever, humorous little guy. Also a very close companion to my lonely, elderly, acute liver-disease-inflicted mother!
That cat was too savvy to be run over by a slow vehicle, so I know it was you, you gargantuan piece of barrio trash, barreling down the street at 60 miles an hour! I wish you'd driven off a cliff instead.
What are you gonna do when you run over a neighborhood kid? Isn't it enough that you deal drugs to them? If you have the balls to walk down my block, you better run the other way. I have a custom hot-rod Saturn Coupe that'll mow you down like a machete in a sugar cane field.