The Bad (or at least a Wee Bit Nasty)

I'm surprised they don't serve breakfast:

Humanity always has a sordid dark side. In some environs it is well hidden, whispered but never mentioned in good company. In other walks of life it is worn on the sleeve like a mark of distinction or valor.
In Bunker Hill the sex shoppes, "t!tty" bars, and tattoo parlors coexist along the main highway with evangelical churches and public schools.
I drove home this way today specifically for this blip. The parking lot of this establishment on a Wednesday afternoon was full. There was an aura of illicit evil about the place, a sense of foreboding danger, along with a urinary smell remniscent of old goats. The motorcycles in the parking lot surely had been stolen. The glove boxes of the pickup trucks were certainly replete with large switchblade knives, brass knuckles and "Saturday night specials". Large container trucks parked in the back must have contained illegal aliens, bales of marijuana, bags of methamphetamine. I didn't stay long. I certainly didn't try the well publicized "Rear Entry".

Tomorrow:" The Good?"