Dear Popo's Pizza,
That's me and my fat lil' hand holding your menu and a cookie. See, I was hurting for a good slice of pizza last night and heard you just opened up at 24th and Bartlett. The pizza options around these parts aren't particularly mind-blowing, so giving your pie a shot seemed like a reasonable idea. But when I walked in, I didn't see any tables, seating, or pizza. In fact, it looked like an Apple Store with a menu.
I asked the very pleasant counter guy if you sold slices, but he told me that you don't serve slices, only personal 8" pizzas that starting at $7.50. That's a lot of pizza for my fat lil' hands to hold, and probably too much for my belly to contain too.
"Yeah, I get that," the counter guy sympathized as he handed me a free cookie along with a menu, encouraging me to call you up next time I want some delivery.
And as I walked down Bartlett towards an assurdedly less tasty slice from Escape From New York, eating that free cookie, I couldn't help but be impressed by the service you gave towards a guy who clearly was not going to pay you for an 8" pizza. If the service was that good, how great must the pizza be?
But, see, I can't get over the slice situation. I know you're new to the neighborhood and probably don't know how things work around here, so maybe you didn't know we're drunk sometimes. And sometimes drunk people need pizza extremely badly. Waiting 10+ minutes for an 8" pizza doesn't really work with the shortened patience of a sometimes drunk person, and the $7.50 is kind of a lot of money to scrounge up on second dinner.
So, maybe consider serving slices? Pretty please with a drizzle of black truffle oil on top?
A Sometimes Drunk Person in the Mission
(P.S. Please change the mushroom on your logo. My cat once ate a mushroom that looked like that and immediately puked it up and I had to clean up mushroom cat puke and now all I can think of is cat puke.)