The Ice Cream Man Cometh!

Just Because...

The old man pushed his ice cream cart in Avoutrie Park.  As the season changed, many of the children who bought treats from him have returned to school and have abandoned the park to his new customers; women with strollers.  They walked by in tight-fitting slacks and shirts which cling to their burgeoning  bosoms.  He coyly watched as they passed and observed every jingle held in their femininity.

A threatening thunderclap and lightning flash had him seek shelter beneath a large maple.  The ensuing downpour formed rivers which flowed to the gutters alongside the concrete walkway.  He listens with intent at the sound of the rains entering the sewer and then readjusted his sagging pants and pulled them just under his bulging beer belly.  He lifted his shirt and scratched the damp, rashy area where his skin flap rested over his belt buckle.  He wife refused to let out the pants, insisting he "get his fat ass off the couch."  He had lain off the liquor for quite some time, but the pouch remained as a constant reminder of a past life of boozing and broad banging.  

you fucked up...

His mind began to wander to a dry house and his favorite sofa.  He would much rather be there than here under this tree...shivering.  A treat seemed appropriate for him as his large gut grumble to be filled.  The wife didn't pack lunch for him as he had stayed out the night before.  "Let your girlfriend fix you something to eat!" is what he heard as he climbed into his pickup.  He could see her standing on the porch, storm clouds threatening behind her flowered house coat.

Nutty Bottoms, Crunchy Buddies, and Icicle Bombs all look good as he dove down into the freezer.  He leaned against the tree and slid down the trunk to the dampened ground.  A few drops of rain fell on his balding head as he munched on his stolen goodies.

there's hell to pay!

He didn't mean for the old battle axe to discover his secret meetings at her house.  They met no more than twice a week during daylight hours.  But somehow she found out and threatened to ditch him if he didn't find something productive to occupy his spare time other than chasing women.  So here he was sitting beneath a dripping tree with only ice cream for company.

He stretched then reached into his pocket for his cigarettes and lighter.  The rains had let up; hopefully enough so that customers will buy ice cream.  By charging an extra $.10, he could make up the difference for the bars he ate.  Who'd be the wiser?

A blinding light knocked him senseless as ice cream bars rose in slow motion to the heavens above, then fell in seared paper and milk drops.  As he collected himself, he saw the smoldering cart before him.  He thought it a sign as the remains of his cart limped somberly toward the old battle axe's house; the one they've shared for over 36 years...to smell the scent of flowers on her musty house coat.  On bended knee, he was a changed man (until the next lightning strike)...