Ice Cream Shenanigans

What on earth was going on as I passed Fifth and 12th this afternoon?  An ice cream truck convention, or, as I suspect, a bitter (sweet) turf war?  No Lickety-Split trucks, so I don't think it was an oxycodone ring.  M-ster Ice Cream Softi, stationed outside Sleepy's, and clearly a bit of an underdog, seemed outnumbered by a (slightly) menacing Mr Softee pair idling at Petland Discounts a few yards south.  Fearing a bloodbath, or at least (given that they're such, er, softies) a lot of flying cones, banana boats, shakes & sundaes, I hurried away.

Update: Well, actually, the more you waste time on Google  research the murky world of ice-cream trucks, you find a sordid panoply of criminal & anti-social behavior, including endless cases of drug dealing, molestation, hoarding of frozen urine, and attacks with baseball bats. Just yesterday, an under-the influence driver in Freeport was found asleep at the wheel, as the Softee jingle played its merry tune over and over and over.  I guess my flippancy was quite misguided.