I was walking down the sidewalk last night around 10pm, and I brushed against a woman carrying a cake decorated with an interrobang.
“Nice cake,” I said. It looked like a giant, awkwardly frosted whoopee pie. Y’know, with an interrobang.
“Thanks. It’s an interrobang.” Evident pride in the cake.
“I know,” I said. “They’re popping up everywhere these days. It’s like a golden age of interrobangs.”
She explained that she’s editor of Interrobang?! Magazine and that the magazine was celebrating it’s fourth edition. I said that this news made me both excited and quizzical.
We laughed, and we laughed, and then we laughed. And I continued down the sidewalk.