This is a true story. It happened at one of my favorite sandwich shops. I stop in there after I go searching for the latest tchotchke to put on my shelf and inspire me. If I don’t find anything, I move on to another neighborhood or just go home. After a triumphant find, however, I reward myself with a Reuben (no cheese) and some lemonade. Fucking posers pissed me off to the point that I shoved my jailhouse tats in their fat fucking faces. After this little incident, much to the joy of my children and friends, I stopped wearing Crocs. Found a better shoe. A nice brown shoe.