So I was thinking about cookouts the other day. More specifically about how inner city kids never truly know the joys of roasting a marshmallow over an open fire while telling ghost stories with a flashlight under your chin.
Of course, this is me, so I started to picture somebody setting up some cones around a campsite in the middle of Flatbush. Bunch of kids running around, roasting marshmallows over an open flame, Dealers on the corner telling the crackheads and pimps to leave the kids alone. Sleeping bags spread out under tents in a city where you go inside for a breath of fresh air.
The hard part would be keeping some drunk from driving over the campsite. Because that would turn it from Whimsical little experiment into tragedy.
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