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We All Scream for Ice Cream (Especially Dippin' Dots)

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I like to imagine shopping malls as time machines. Big, sad, flux capacitor-less time machines. I sat on the glossy tile bench in front of the fountain, perplexed by this strange, magical world in the middle of nowhere. It all seemed very novel. That is, all of it except for her.
I didn't know her name (and for that matter she didn't know mine), but that all seemed okay, for ours was but a whirlwind affair. We met up nearly every weekend. Our time together lasted no more than a few minutes each time at the most, but no experience could ever compare to it. Yes, the Dippin' Dots girl forever captured my heart.
The adorable way she bit her lip as she fumbled awkwardly with the scooper, the way she smiled and laughed when I told her she could keep the change, even the way she cried loudly each time I rejected her romantic advances (I mean, she was insanely attractive, with bronze skin and mahogany-colored hair, and a face pretty enough for a Häagen-Dazs girl, but I told her right for the beginning that I was only in it for the Dots). One day, sitting alone at home, I had the most peculiar of thoughts: If she works at Dippin' Dots, maybe, just maybe, she might get free Dippin' Dots for family and friends... and boyfriends. I jumped to my feet, sprinted to my car, and sped as quickly as the law would allow to the mall. I kept my cool on the walk to the kiosk, as I knew she would be looking for me.
I approached slowly and innocently, with my hands in my pockets, my eyes trained on my sneakers, and eyes that looked like a little boy who had just lost his new puppy.
"Hey," I said shyly, trying to gauge her mood.
"Hey!" she said, in that voice that teenage girls have when they're excited to see you. It sounds a lot like the one when they're pretending to be happy, but their face kind of glows when they say it. She was coming on a little strong, but I did my best to not get freaked out.
"Can I get--"
"Let me guess: a medium cookies and cream and a Diet Coke!" D*mn. Say what you will about her, but she had a great memory.
"Haha," I laughed. "As amazing as that sounds, I think I might like to get something new this time."
"Oh, really?" she said, in the way that girls try to be cute and make you rethink your decision. She was right, too. A medium cookies and cream with a Diet Coke did sound pretty good. Wait, no! What was I doing?! I had to focus!
"Well, I thought that since it my birthday is coming up, I might be able to get that phone number of yours."
"Hahaha!" she burst out. "It's about time!"
I was in! It may not have been the best pickup line, but then, she was a girl who worked at Dippin' Dots.
She grabbed a napkin and a red pen and jotted down seven digits.

The next three weeks were like a living h*ll, only I could get free Dippin' Dots . This girl would not shut up and totally hated nearly everything that I liked. She called my Converse Chuck Taylor All-Stars lame, insisting I should wear Nikes, and she couldn't stand the music of the Talking Heads. I was quick to point out that Converse was owned by Nike, so her argument was invalid, although the Talking Heads are an acquired taste. It was all worth it though, because every day at 4 o'clock, I drove to the mall to get my free large mix of half cookies and cream/half mint chocolate chip.
My birthday was that weekend, so one day while we were at the mall she asked me what I wanted.
"Just you," I smiled, trying my best to be adorable. "And maybe a bunch of Dippin' Dots, too. That would be cool."
"Hahaha! Okay, why don't you come to my house tonight at about 8, and we'll have a little party for two?" She said in a sexy voice. Then she leaned in close to my ear, whispering, "By the way... my parents are out of town!"
Oh boy! Unsupervised consumption of Dippin' Dots!

I arrived at her house at 8 on the dot. Dashing to the front porch, I knocked on the door.
No answer.
I knocked again.
Still, no answer. I was starting to get worried that maybe she had forgotten to get the Dippin' Dots.
Finally, the door opened, and there she was, wearing a very low cut t-shirt and some very short shorts. for that split second, my mind was taken away from the ice cream.
"I've been waiting for you! Come on in!" Seriously, woman?! I thought. I'm the one who's been waiting!
She said she had a good scary movie picked out for us to watch together, which seemed a little weird since it was April and not October. After putting in the DVD and turning the lights off, she nestled her way up next to me. Naturally, I put my arm around her. Eventually, things started getting heavy and we began to make out. She was good, too. It was like her tongue was a being of its own will. Her lip gloss tasted like cherry ice cream. Or maybe it was just cherry, I wasn't too sure. I've tried to stay away from cherries after choking on one when I was three. So let's just say it was cherry ice cream. That reminded me of the true reason I was there that night, and for that matter the reason why I was even with this girl: the Dippin' Dots. The Ice Cream of the Future. I had put up with far too much to give up now.
When we took a pause, I asked her if she had gotten the ice cream. She said she had it in the freezer. I had to find time to get in there and take it!
After a little more making out, she suggested we go upstairs. Was she trying to take me away from my precious Dippin' Dots?! Ever the genius, I had a plan
"You go upstairs, and I'll be up there in a minute!" I said with excitement, though not for her.
I sat on the couch and waited until I heard her footsteps overhead. Quietly, I made my way into her kitchen. Gingerly, I opened the freezer door.
There, sitting before my eyes like the Holy Grail and, well, the other cup used at the Last Supper, were two, gallon-sized containers of Dippin' Dots!
I wasted no time. I grabbed them and ran as fast as I could out the front door. As I started my car, I heard her yelling from her window "Where are you going!"
As I drove on, I received a wave of text messages form her
"WTF???????!!!!!! Where did u go????"
"Plz call me!!!"
"R u f***ing kidding me???!!! U took the f***ing ice creem???!!!!!!"
"I HATE U!!!"
As I cruised through the night, I blasted "Burning Down the House" as loud I could through my car speakers. I never saw her again, but every time my tires got slashed, or any time an anonymous threat got sent to my house, I always thought of the time we shared together.





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