An attractive young professional-looking couple was there with cans of shaving cream. They had a red wagon behind them, stacked high with more cans. They were spraying out shaving cream in the form of little buildings, roads, streets and people, in their back yard. They looked like they'd been awake all night.
They noticed me and smiled self-consciously. "We're doing this to keep Groucho Marx away."
"But there's no Groucho Marx for miles and miles and miles (and also decades)," I protested.
"Yes," she said, "It's working."