I can see Mr Softee swerving to avoid the Range Rover that just came around the corner. I don't know how the ice cream man wasn't warned. I could feel the beats from the Range Rover for the last half-minute.
Kids drift home from classes, flies buzz lazily over the grasses and thinned out front shrubs. Which means that I'm gonna be yelling at some punk ass kids in a week's time like a crotchety old man, and I'll have to mow that high pile green fucker we call a front lawn.