
The little boy marched up to our table of leather-clad bikers and slammed down a…
The little boy marched up to our table of leather-clad bikers and slammed down a piece of paper. On it, written in uneven letters, were the words: “DADDY’S FUNERAL – NEED SCARY MEN.” His tiny hands were still stained with marker ink. His Superman cape was on backward. The diner went silent as fifteen hardened […]