Inspired by a real unreal character encountered just a block from the local Middle School, on a suburban street of smallish cottages, bungalows and colonials with cute little lawns: a truly scary frozen-novelty-truck driver.
At first glance, I thought he might be a homeless dude participating in both a nicotine-patch trial and a severe weight-loss program. Then, I thought — no — he’s a long-lost carny guy from the ‘60s. Or maybe a Gulf War vet with PTSD and a few too many rough miles under his rope belt. After some reflection, I considered that he might just be one of those hot new fashion designers working the retro-urban-recycling trend.
But as he opened the door of his truck, and put out his last fag with his bare foot, I realized I was seeing a guy with perhaps just one last chance at making a survival wage against severe odds, barely keeping it together.
So I walked up and bought out the remainder of his stock to hand out at Middle School recess (leaving him a nice tip in the process). After all, in today’s world, you’ve got to keep REALLY good humor, and spread it around when you can.
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