I woke up this morning around 6, and headed for the scrapyard. During the day, I plucked from the river of metal any kid's bike that had full tires. I amassed about seven, (including a mini-bike) and triked them down to this family of kids that always pester me for bikes.

I arrived to find the older, teenaged kids of the house and their friends rolling a blunt on the front stoop. We were all in sight of the police station, so there were lots of cops walking down the other side of the street and cruising in and out. But it was getting-out-of school time, and the cops paid us no mind because we weren't fighting.

Not that we didn't get an invitation. A carload of shorties cruised by, flashing that they were Vikings. My hosts commented on the Viking's recent ejection from the neighborhood and their bravery in coming around for more. I was instructed to stand aside if they had to throw down. Fortunately, the kids were just driving around throwing signs, so we didn't see them again.

All the kids came home. They argued and fought over who