He hadn’t died in his sleep so he chalked it up as a win. Rays of sunlight forced their way through the cracks in his curtains like horny rapists on speed aiming for the crack of his arse. His eyes hurt, but everything was going to be fine. Today was the day. The ice cream van was in town and his mind was filled with the thoughts of his favourite flavour. The only flavour for him. The one. He got up and started walking the half mile to the ice cream van. The sun licked his face all the way.
His thoughts became plagued with images of the one. Soft but not too sweet, they danced in the moonlight. He held the cone gently so as not to crack it. He found himself dancing down the footpath in the heat of the day and then his mind switched back to that most romantic of scenes with the ice cream of his dreams. Was he going to fuck it? How ridiculous. His love for this flavour went beyond mere physical gratification or sensual desire. He loved his dairy soulmate. It was then that he realised that absence does indeed make the heart grow fonder and even more so because he had not once strayed. He was faithful to his favourite. A stray dog growled at him. He punched it in the skull. Nothing was going to stop him today.
There was a lineup at the ice cream van. Inferior people. The type that tried all the flavours. Degenerate dairy whores who were not in possession of even an ounce of loyalty. He felt ten feet tall over how good a person he was for not playing the ice cream field. He had decided after the first lick that his favourite was the only flavour he would ever need. He didn’t dare think of life without it. Putting another flavour in his mouth would be cheating. The thought of putting his tongue on that same cold and soft surface but only to find it tasted different induced flashbacks of the time his grandmother tried to breastfeed him when he was twenty-six. Same feeling different flavour. These were not thoughts he liked to entertain and like the host who hurriedly tries to rid his house of guests, he closed the door on that part of his life.
Finally it was his turn. I’d like the favourite, he said.
And which one is that? said the ice cream guy.
Hang on…WHERE IS SHE?
She’s usually there, he said and pointed to an empty space in the ice cream guy’s display case.
Oh? Blue Pill? Sold out.
NOOOOOOOOO. This can’t be. She’s the one! WHY IS EVERYONE ELSE EATING HER?!?
Motherfucker, I have forty-nine other flavours. Try something different.
HOW DARE YOU! She was my soulmate.
Are we still talking about ice cream? said the ice cream guy but he wasn’t listening. He’d thrown himself onto the ground in a fit of vicious and furious spasticity. Sweat and tears combined to what was essentially the same thing, but the effect was torrential in its volume. People continued to buy ice cream, ignoring him as if it were a child throwing a tantrum.
That ice cream motherfucker was going to pay. He stormed home with a violence the streets of his town had never seen before. An elderly woman was thrown into oncoming traffic just for being within reaching distance. He punched a low flying bird out of the sky. Feathers pierced the skin between his fingers. He got home and got into his car. He was back at the ice cream van within a minute. The other customers ran from the scene when they worked out he wasn’t going to slow down. The car got a little airborne as it went over the gutter. Not as much as he would have liked but enough to pin the ice cream guy to the back of his fucking van of shit. He kicked the windscreen out and climbed over the bonnet so that he was face to face with the prick. DO YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENS?! he said, bits of spit shooting into the ice cream guy’s eyeballs. Some went into his mouth as well. DO YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU FUCK WITH DESTINY?
I can’t feel my legs, said the ice cream guy.
That’s what you get, he said.
Are we still talking about ice cream?
Fuck you. She’s not just ice cream to me.
I don’t even know what we’re talking about anymore.
There is no one. Certainly not with ice cream. Like I said. Try all the flavours. Good ones, bad ones. They’re all there, said the ice cream guy.
WHA…WHA..WHAT?! he said with a demented fury.
Same applies to women, said the ice cream guy and the screams could be heard over the sound of sirens that were rushing to what was now a raging fire. He was still staring into the ice cream guy’s eyes when the first fire hose shot its jet of water into the back of his head.