The girl kept on pestering.

Her mom and dad kept on refusing to drive her to get ice cream, it was overpriced and they would end up paying, they told her.

"It's not my fault I don't have a car."

"Yes it is, you don't have a job."

They said, but more specifically her dad.

"I'll get a job if you take me to get ice cream."

"And pay for it too?"

"Yep," she says. 

She's smug about it too.

"Will you leave us alone if we take you?"

"Yes," she's excited.

Mom and dad look at each other, they sigh. 

They get in the car.

The daughter sits in the back, alone, her parents in the front row.

They start their uneventful trip to that godforsaken teenage girl arousing ice cream pit.

Various passings of cars that look the same on streets that look the same until they break out of their little neighborhood onto the city street and then the highway.

They hear police cars and their sirens.

They're distant enough.

But getting closer.

Coming towards them.

The cop cars go past them, tailing a swerving car.

They make it to the pit.

She gets her ice cream.

They pull out of the drive-thru,

And out onto the highway.

The sirens are audible again.

Still faint, but approaching faster than before.

A couple of glances in the rear view mirror...

Eventually around to look out of the back of the car, no eyes on the road, only on the car tailed by the cops, coming up right behind them.

Suddenly - after a metal, and ear, crushing impact - they’re getting pushed off the highway by the previously swerving car, they roll into a ditch, and they land upside down.

The roof collapses, the front of it at least.

The parents are dead, they aren't responding to their daughters pleas.

Next thing she knows, she's waking up in a hospital bed with a salty feeling of the dried tears in her face which neither the police nor doctors bothered to wipe. 

Months later, the daughter, aided by her aunt, her uncle, and a hungry lawyer, would try to sue the ice cream company for making her want to leave her house and getting her parents into a fatal accident.

The judge dismissed the case.

Her high school classmates did not.

They wore shirts with the ice cream company's logo on the breast pocket. 

The back of the shirts read, in a red, dripping, font, representative of ice cream, according to them when asked by the principal, "Ice cream so good it will kill your parents!" 

Arguably worse than that stunt was the amount of time it took for the parent-less girl to get the proper paperwork done to transfer schools, in which she was frequently asked by the same students if she would be getting homeschooled.