On the subject of dairy bucaneers

I should apologise. I would have done this on time, I really would have. I had plans and everything. Then I had three job interviews on two consecutive days.

Problematic!

So, by request (which is a new and interesting concept), I'm providing an update on the saga of myself and ice cream pirate.
I've given my prey some thought. My dad's returned, sure, and we're eating and such, I know I've mentioned that before, but the fact remains that ice cream pirate still invades our street on occasion. I don't think it's the same one. The old one hasn't been on our street so much since I went out there and started stalking it with kitchen knives, but it was his own damned fault for being delicious in my (and my family's) time of great personal need.
But yes, there are more pirates. A band of ice cream corsairs, occasionally driving up and down our street. They seem to have advanced technologies, since as I tried to pursue one in my car, it appeared to turn a corner and completely vanish.
It is, however, coming up to early autumn. Children are not frequently out playing in the street now, so an ice cream van is not the most advised of business ventures.

This begs the question: why are they here?

Do they seek to sell frozen delights to children who aren't there?
Is it out of habit? Have they nothing more to do all day?
Have I, as a result of CERN's physics tomfoolery, fallen into a groundhog day-esque parallel dimension?

Or maybe, just maybe, it's the only possibly and rational explanation. Maybe it's that the ice cream pirates function as a small pack. A band of dairy dispensing brigands driving up and down in front of my home in a mocking parade! Thumbing their nose at my authority, at my right and duty as a man and at my very existence.
If you can read this, and I feel very much that you can (and do), know this. Your creamy reign of terror is coming to an abrupt end. I will, one day, return to the field of honour with my own band of freedom fighters. We will bring your maniacal tyranny to a close and claim your vehicle for the greater good.
For the children.
For the free spirit of man.

For BioCorp.




Actually, I think I'd rather that groundhog day thing would happen. That'd be awesome. Only I've a feeling that if I knew I could live without any consequences whatsoever, I wouldn't end up doing anything interesting. Certainly nothing you'd actually film and show to people. I mean, there would be dark and terrible things involved, but mostly I'd spend my days seeing how many speed cameras I could trigger in half an hour.