Last night we listed some telltale signs that spring has sprung, and among them was the reemergence of ice cream trucks and their jolly little jingles. But could the cheeriness be hiding something sinister? Yes, one commenter told us early this morning.
The Mister Softee truck used to stop directly below my apartment every day.
Last summer, my wife looked out the window and made eye contact with the ice cream guy. He looked embarrassed. That's when she realized that he was urinating. Inside his truck.
You must understand, my wife notices and expresses disgust every time a waiter sniffles, runs a hand through his hair or touches his face. And we'd bought ice cream from this guy. I think she's still suffering from PTSD.
Happy spring, everyone.