After drowning myself in an ocean of tears and memories, I decided to undergo a quest to find food potent enough to quell my romantic appetite.
I thought way to back my childhood–what food had comforted me in the rough days of preschool when I was constantly insulted by my peers?
A mental checklist came to my head, should I be cliché and eat bonbons slathered in Nutella with a side of peanut butter?
At that exact moment, a distant, distinct childhood memory erupted into my ambitious mind, I recalled the one treat that belonged to the future: Dippin’ Dots.
I began to brainstorm locations that sold the wonderful treat before arriving at a final conclusion, my journey shifted its destination temporarily to Crabtree Valley Mall.
Immediately, I encountered my first problem in my tumultuous quest for the reconciliation of my soul. I had no source of transportation. Although I was seventeen, I was not nearly cool enough to have a license.
My first thought was to call my good friend Jonathan Wendt, senior. “I couldn’t get [Bennett] because I was too busy siphoning gas out of classic cars,” said Wendt.
With a sigh and a frown, I had nearly given up on my trip until a thought suddenly dawned upon me: I had a bicycle.
Back in the fifth grade, my authentic fifteen-speed white Quest bike did wonders for my social life, aiding me in acquiring all the finest babes. This was still the case.
During the entirety of the four-mile bike ride, I heard many women passing by in cars making polite comments. “Nice bike!” shouted a cute blonde as she laughed to her friend, likely out of excitement at my bulging physique.
Anyway, after my long pilgrimage to Crabtree was complete, I darted into the mall to find my holy grail of sorts.
Instantaneously I spotted the colorful Dippin’ Dots stand, my eyes grew wide with delight. Which flavor would I enjoy?
I considered the classic banana split flavor. I imagined the burst of delicious moisture erupting on my eager taste buds.
However, in a flickering glimpse of sheer rapture, I noted my absolute favorite cotton candy flavoring. Immediately I pictured myself eating the frozen balls. Perhaps they would cure my throat, sore from weeping.
With a newfound sense of confidence,. I waltzed up to the cashier and placed my order. I then let my fingers fall into my pockets, which seemed oddly empty.
Frantically, I dug through them, searching for any source of currency to buy my hallowed treat. Alas, to my dismay, I came up empty.
Thankfully, to my delight, I saw the familiar face of Kiley Blades approximately a meter behind me!
I asked him immediately if he could spot me a couple bucks to acquire my coveted treasure. Unfortunately, Blades is a hard bargainer.
“I’ll give you the cash if I can go on a date with your mom; she’s a beautiful wonderful lady,” said Blades cunningly.
I was now faced with a dilemma. Were the Dippin’ Dots truly worth witnessing Kiley Blades becoming my step-father?
In the end, I decided there was really no decision. I took the money from Blades and allowed him to do his thing.
At last, after all my trials and tribulations, it was finally time to accomplish my goal. Finally, I walked up to the counter, and purchased my salvation.
Then however, a thought popped into my head. Wasn’t Dippin’ Dots supposed to be the self proclaimed “Ice Cream of the Future?”
I began to wonder how this was possible, Dippin’ Dots had been around for many years, and I personally have witnessed no further advances in ice cream technology.
In a moment of disgust at the lies and slander spread by the company, I tossed my ice cream on the floor with vigor and ferocity.
The resulting explosion was a sight of true beauty. I decided that at a later date I would suggest the image to a local art museum.
Immediately, I decided to bike home. I pedaled and pedaled; the sun went down and the moon came up, but still, stoically, I pedaled on into the fleeting daylight.