I went to an ice cream parlor; homemade ice cream for 50 years or something like that. Closed for a few years, it just reopened with a line all the way down the block. As I walked out a kid of about ten walked in, wearing a pinstripe fedora and carrying an Etch-a-Sketch. I think a hole ripped in the fabric of time and space and slipped this place through to our side, and I’m completely okay with that.