To the junkie in the minivan

Ol' Man Snap fears no man. None. At all. OK. Well. Maybe he fears the Boogeyman. Or double-mouthed fish. Or Santa Pope. But he digresses, as usual.

But you, junkie in the minivan, you kind of scared the Ol' Man this morning at the Dunkin' Donuts. OMS was content in his car, sipping, carefully, his coffee and praying certain stomach issues faced yesterday have been rectified. Mid-prayer, he saw you lingering around the newspaper dispensers.

In a flash, you grabbed the handles of each box and, well, the only good description we have is, huh, well you know how sometimes parents who are the devil, wait, what's that called, well, whatever it's called, you know how they sometimes shake their baby, violently?

Mr. Junkie, sir, the violence you possess is scary. You shook the handles in an attempt to dislodge any loose change. You failed miserably, but you achieved victory. When your menacing glare came the Ol' Man's way, he quickly averted eye contact and pretended to play with his Blackberry.

He probably would have sh*t himself, but thankfully, that ended yesterday.