So... There's this guy across the street from us. He seems like a nice guy, but he has a penchant for baggy pants and do-rags. He seems to sit on his front porch smoking quite a bit waiting for... I'm not sure. But he's waiting for something.
At least once a day, an ice cream truck stops in front of his place. This might seem all charming and bucolic except that the ice cream truck is fucking outrageously loud and usually stops after the kids have gone to bed. It's motor and freezer unit whir like a wind tunnel and the crappy-ass speaker up top blasts "Pop Goes the Weasel" while he waits. Occasionally, I see the driver making odd hand gestures at the house. He must be practicing his ASL for the Special Ed classes he's paying for by driving an ice cream truck.
The weird thing is, I've never actually seen anyone come out of the house and approach the truck. I know something must be going down, but all I ever see is the damned loud-ass truck sit there for a bit and then leave. It's like this gansta has one of those invisibility cloaks they've been talking about in the news.
I've made up a little ditty I sing to myself to alleviate my annoyance at the truck:
"Just outside the drug dealer's house,
The Ice Cream Truck is idle,
The invisible gangsta has 10K in cash,
There's a drug deal."