Today, as Ironic Ian’s head was about to split open from my 10th consecutive DDT to the cold hard sidewalk, I saw Tristan the apron-clad, wax moustached, Northwest Bushwick cheese consultant heading to Ye Olde Shoppe to test the vintage scale he made at adult craft class. So I rammed a funnel in his mouth; poured a gallon of Liquid Drano down it and watched him shit his intestines into his teenage girls jeans. End of story.