“What a pity”, one of the two old girls sighed as an apparently ambitious mother dragged her kid to the ice cream parlour. “Yes, I do remember back in the day when we would go berserk for one. I wonder what’s up with kids now a days”, said the other in a voice that quivered exactly like the mel hued canopy overhead. The kid was now writhing like an agitated serpent. After dissecting his vile behavior for some time more, they spoke up again. “Ah well, it is her fault – probably giving in to his tantrums. Spoilt brats!”.
“Mom please! I don’t want to! I hate it!” “This is not how we raised you. Stop!”. She hissed and tugged his tiny arm, adding “Your friend never complains, does he? Then why do you?”. The parlour lady, fond of kids, chirped “How may I help you ma’am?” He clutched his mother’s hand as tightly as he shut his eyes.
“What an ungrateful rat, that little one. He’s got abundance…” The old girls mumbled with their wrinkled tongues in wrinkled mouths as the parlour lady led her tiny customer to a chair. His mother was troubled. What would she do with a son like that? How was he to be accepted in a society where a mere splinter in the polished wood of character was fatal?
She pretended to ignore her boy and proceeded to belt and buckle him to the battered, gruesome, grey and dirty but unnaturally strong chair. People said that at one time the chair had been drenched with rainbows.
The parlour lady got the ice-cream out, mumbling a few words of motivation. It wasn’t mandatory to motivate, but the parlour lady did it anyway.
The kid knew what was next. The rules, procedures, ways and methods…he braced himself. He knew his mother loved him, he knew ice-cream was expensive. He knew everyone had to go through this procedure- but he couldn’t love ice cream. He…- his thoughts were numbed all of a sudden. As always, the ice cream cone had been shoved in his mouth all at once, as per the rules.
His insides went colder than the ice cream. It felt as if the lightest tap on the head that time would shatter him, like glass. But the fragments would still not reflect their ideals. The lady proceeded to push it further down his throat. He gagged and tears blinded him. He couldn’t breathe.
He never knew how ice cream tasted. A thing to cool you up? All it ever did was burn his tongue. He cursed the ones who discovered it, or enjoyed it and the ones who sold it. He hated ice cream.