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Stupidity With a Name
As I slowly, proudly walk inside the glass doors, I suddenly wish that they were automatic, because they are just so fun. But then, I’m inside. I flip on the light, and switch the closed sign to open, while marveling about how ever since I ran away from home, things have been going uphill. I mean, I found a helpful guy, climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro, moved into an apartment for free, opened an ice-cream shop. Plus, I found a twenty on the ground this morning. My mind snaps back into place as someone walks through the door.
“Hey Dan, what’s up?” I ask nonchalantly, even though my heart goes pitter-patter and does a flip. I hope it’s a back flip. I’ve always wished I could do one.
“The sky. And we’re open now,” I respond as he comes behind the counter. Just then, our first customer comes in. He looks up at the flavors:
Chocolate Pickle, Hennawhale Surprise, Dirty Laundry Mix-up, Old Garbage Dump, Coffee Sweat, Tree Bark Chunk, Banana Bracelet, Mystery Meat Munch, Cookies n’ Crap, and Dominic Delicious. (Dominic wrote that in my book too) The customers eyes linger on Hennawhale Surprise.
“Um, what’s the “surprise” part in the Hennawhale Surprise?”
“Don’t tell anyone, but it’s genuine Hennawhale.” He orders. I give him a large, he gives me $3.40, and he leaves. I give Dan a thumbs up, and he grins. My heart melts like the Coffee Sweat must be by now. An hour passes before anyone else comes. He glances at the flavor choices and exits. Minutes later, he comes back with friends-- a lot of them, all laughing-- and he orders Mystery Meat Munch. He takes a bite, and throws up all over the floor. He shakily straightens up, and points a finger at me, hiss, “I will have revenge!” Then he goes.
“I guess he likes dramatic exits. I mean, he went out the “enter”. What kind of sick person does that?” Dan doesn’t reply, just kind of shakes his head. Before I can ask him why, a little girl walks in, and immediately asks for Dominic Delicious. She takes a gigantic bite, then looks thoughtful. Moments later, a smile lights up her small face. Her face is pale, like she’s never been in a tanning booth, and I tell this to her. She doesn’t hear me, I know this because she doesn’t answer.
She just says, “ This is so yummy! What’s in...”
I cut her off and scream, “Dominic! It’s really you! Why’d you come all this way?”
“Um, I just had to walk down main street, actually.” He says, staring at his feet, or the beautiful new stain, obviously in respect.
“But still!” I shriek.
“Is he your boyfriend or something?” Dan asks from behind me.
“No,” I blurt out as Dominic says, “None of your beeswax!” Then he kicks down my shop’s garbage can.
“Wow Charlotte, which is it? Yes, or no?”
“Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell.” I draw out the “well” to stall for time. “No.” I decide. Then, to Dom, I say, “Well, what flavor are you getting?”
“You know what. The usual.”
“Ok.” I grab the Little Tike's cup, get half a scoop of Chocolate Pickle to squeeze into it, and hand it over.
“What the heck is this?” He asks, oh-so stupidly after taking a bite.
“I always get Dominic Delicious though!”
“Well, you said the usual, never did you say you wanted YOUR usual, and I always get Chocolate Pickle. So that’s what you got.” His face turns as pale as the little girl’s that’s still standing here.
“I’m allergic!” He shouts before falling down on my floor. How rude. So I call the cops and tell them to take him away. They look at him, and back to me, and back to him.
“Miss, we can’t arrest someone for passing out.”
“Yeah, but he didn’t. He just fell onto MY floor!” Then, the police sigh, look at the flavor board, throw up a bit in their mouths ( I can tell it’s out of longing, maybe they’re on a diet).
“What kind of sicko are you?” One asks angrily. He’s obviously an actor, because he’s obviously acting. I haven’t even coughed.
“I’m not sick though.”
“OhmyGod.” The growl in unison, while grabbing me. In the background, I see Dan laughing. I’m so confused, why is he laughing? The cops start dragging me way. I yell for Dan to help me. He steps away from the counter, hops over Dominic’s fallen form (still on the floor), and walks past me, outside. I thought he was coming for me! I’m pushed into the police car then, and the door slams shut behind me. And then it clicks. Dan did this. He’s the one that said I should open and ice-cream shop, he’s the one that said to make all the crazy flavors, and he laughed at my gullibility.
The window’s rolled down, and we’ve caught up to him by now, so I scream-sob out at him, “It was all you, Dan! Every part! Do you like messing with random girl’s heads? Well, do you?”
“So now you decide to be smart? Even after I had to put up with you telling me stories about how you ran away. You ran a town over!” He shouts back. The cops hear and stop the car.
“Is this true, young man?” They glare at him.
“Um, yes?” The cops both jump out of the car-- one grabbing him, one releasing me-- and Dan and I have traded places. He leaves, and as I walk home, I vaguely wonder why paramedics are going into my shop.