“Chocolate.”

“Vanilla.”

“Chocolate.”

“Vanilla.”

“Chocolate!”

“Vanilla!”

The girl pushed back her long hair impatiently, drawn to her sticky skin like a magnet in the evening heat.  Even in the too-cold air of the ice cream shop, every new customer let in a blast from the outdoor furnace, and unpleasant reminder of what there was to face at the bottom of an empty cone.  She glared at her boyfriend, her braces glinting in the light.  Cute was one thing, but sharing the same favorite ice cream was a definite deal-breaker.   “You’re kidding, right?  Chocolate is superior to vanilla.”

The boy across from her sneered, dark curls plastered to his temples from a baseball cap that had been washed too many times.  “Vanilla is the best!  It tastes best with chocolate syrup and caramel.”

“Caramel?” The girl blanched.  “You mean sprinkles and hot fudge.”

“Sprinkles?”  The boy grimaced.  “They get stuck in my braces.  I like nuts.”

“You must be from another planet!” the girl scoffed, waving her hand.  “Chocolate, hot fudge, sprinkles and whipped cream.”

The boy shuddered, his shirt sticking to his back in cold patches.  So his car didn’t have air conditioning–it was still his.  Suddenly, his girlfriend’s smile seemed dimmer, her sparkling eyes duller.  Pretty was one thing, but sharing the favorite ice cream was important.  “I’m all about vanilla, chocolate syrup, caramel syrup, nuts and no whipped cream.”

“No whipped cream?” The girl whispered, her eyes tearing.

“None.”  The boy shook his head, crossing his arms stubbornly.

The girl traced her finger over the glass, her chin trembling.  “What do we do now?”  Suddenly, she wasn’t in the mood for ice cream.  She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering in the air conditioned blast.

“I guess I could take you home.”  The boy ducked his head, pulling his hat lower.

“Or you could try this.”

They looked up at the old man behind the counter.  He held out a dish of ice cream to each one.

“What is it?” the girl asked, poking at it suspiciously with a pink plastic spoon.

“We didn’t order this.”  The boy frowned.

“It’s on the house.  Try it.  You’ll love it.”  The old man winked.

The girl took a bite.  The boy took a bite.  Their eyes raised, smiles blooming across their stuffed cheeks.

“It’s delicious!” the girl cried.

“It’s perfect!” the boy declared.

“What is it?” they asked in unison.

“Cookies and cream with thick chocolate syrup, chocolate chips, chocolate sprinkles and bits of praline, with a bit of cookie dough mixed in.”  The old man grinned.  “Do you like it?”

“We love it,” they said in unison.  Entwining hands, they walked to a nearby table and sat down, their eyes locked with every bite.

The old man snorted as he wiped down the counter.  “That’s why I’m the ice cream man,” he murmured to himself.  “I get it right everytime.”

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  We have a week of whimsy coming up!

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