I am wandering distractedly through Flying Tiger, a cheap thrill Danish store, with my husband. We are hunting for treats. This summer is delightfully warm, and perfect for beach playdates. We are here to buy some beach toys for our sons.
Suddenly we hear loud, vexed, curse words echoing in the store. The voice is coming from a male. He is furiously pacing around like a Tiger ready for a kill. He is flexing his arms. His gait like that of a Rooster prepared for a cockfight.