The sound of hootin' and hollerin' came from the parking lot of the street ministry. I was standing at the counter signing in homeless men and women in advance of their cold cereal and pop tart breakfast. The front entrance of the ministry stood ajar and I caught a glimpse of the noise's source—a gaunt and elderly man wearing a mask was steering a BMX bike with his left hand and holding a power drill with his right. He aimed the power drill upward and was firing it like a Dodge City cowboy on a drunken rampage. And when I say firing I mean it because I heard the the drill
Excellent!