I was driving someplace today to pick up lunch when a dirty white van, covered in rust, pulled up next to me. The driver was a familiar sight – oddly large glasses, big round head, messy hair, dirty fingernails, and badly maintained facial hair. Further inspection of the van proved what I already thought to be true. He was an Ice Cream Man. There were stickers upon stickers of various icy treats covering the van. It had a large generator on the back, making some awful ruckus.
I thought to myself, “Shit, who the fuck allows their kids to get ice cream from this guy?” But then I thought back to my childhood and realized that I bought ice cream from this guy. Hundreds, if not thousands, of times. They are all the same. All ice cream men look as if they just got done serving jail time for fucking little boys, like Jesus in The Big Lebowski. Yet we continue to allow our children to get close to them and suck on their ice pops and lick their cones. The world is an interesting place.
Want to lick it, little boy? (12/2007)