As I drove home from The Fringe, I noticed a bunch of people sitting around in lawn chairs on the lawn of a house on 12th Street, probably drinking, with a lemonade stand.

Adults... with their own lemonade stand. Conformity kept me on the path to my house, sans-lemonade, but full of curiousity:

Do they sell actual lemonade, or "lemonade"?

Would they laugh at me if I stopped the car and asked for lemonade?

Are their kids actually the lemonade sellers, but they've just gone to bed already?

Why didn't I ever think of doing something like this during the Fringe?

If I did, would these people stop their car?

To laugh at me?

What the hell is their problem anyway?

Those cocky bastards ...