Pretzelz

I was at the train station today, eating an Auntie Anne's pretzel and waiting for my train when a policeman walked by with his radio going off. 9 times out of 10 those have absolutely nothing to do with me, but I'm always worried there will be that one time when I'll overhear the radio and it will be about me.

"Subject is a white male. Tall. Goofy in appearance. He's eating some kind of pretzelled bread. It appears to have cinnamon sugar on it. Possible security threat, requesting permission to smash his face in."

"Permission granted. Be sure to use the pointy end."

I would be so screwed if that happened.

Also, I would really like a pretzel now.