Under the North Hamster Sky

Seething, I pulled up to a rural ice cream stand. There was only one other car. Old with a little rust, its bumper sticker read, "Reelect Trump"

From my car I saw them emerge from the section marked "Fried Food". The man was burly though not especially big. His white beard was tufty. He could have died it black, tied ribbons lit with fuses, and passed for Edward Thatch. His t-shirt said, "We are the 100%.
"

Giving what I thought was my best Sicilian stink eye, I glared into him as he shuffled to their car. He stared back. 
Then he smiled. He waved, almost shyly, like a child might with a hand raised barely above his belt line.

Carefully, he pulled and pushed himself into the passenger seat. His woman drove him away.



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