Please accept these frozen beverages as reparations for the tragedy that almost befell you.

Today I went to 7-11 with my little roommate IK to get a Slurpy. It was hot as balls today, something I guess I'll have to get used to for the next three months.

When we arrived at the 7-11 there was a woman and her two children blocking the door. I thought it was very polite of her to move so quickly out of the way so that IK and I could enter the store.

Inside, there were some boisterous men having a conversation near the ATM. IK and I moved over to the Slurpy machine to discuss which color tastes best (orange, because it tastes like its name. But we got pink because pink was watermelon which means that watermelons taste pink).

It was then, as IK was thankfully protected by the back wall of the register, that I realized that woman who quickly got out of our way was actually fleeing the store and the men who were having a boisterous conversation were actually having a heated argument over who could and could not be on that side of town, something that was so important they felt the need to threaten each other with a shanking.

That's right. IK and I walked into a gang war.

In my defense (three words I seem to utter a lot lately), it was hot as balls, yo, and I'd just carried little 45 pound IK for five blocks. It is a little too early in IK's life to be explaining to him that the only time you carry your roommate is when they are drunk and you need to get to the car before the cops show up. Or in times of war, domestic or otherwise.

As it turns out, today was "See A Gang Fight, Get A Free Slurpy" Day at 7-11 and we scored three free.

The two clerks working the store at that moment reminded me of Dante Hicks and Randal Graves, except Randal is gay and Dante has multiple piercings which sounds about right for Portland, Oregon.

Just another day in paradise at Casa de Tres Senoritas y el Chico.