When we were dating, Bart and I always heard the familiar jingle from the ice cream truck going at all hours of the night (don't ask how we knew this).
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e2uOzy3cyG8
We've always been curious about who lets their kid get ice cream after midnight? Well, we finally figured out that the ice cream truck was just a cover to sell drugs, thus we renamed the Mr. Softee truck "The Crack Truck." I bet whoever thought of selling drugs from an ice cream truck thinks they are soooooo smart.
Ice cream = happy children
Crack = happy parents (?)
I digress. Last night, Bart and I had kind of a rough night. We had to go to Wal-Mart.
Twice.
Wal-Mart in Philadelphia is not like the nice, clean Wal-Marts in Utah. We decided last night, while we were waiting in a line of over 10 customers, that Wal-Mart in Philadelphia is the embodiment of hell.
We finally got home after the second trip to Wal-Mart and much to our dismay realized that the item we bought was mislabeled. So, yeah, we were pretty bummed. But then, oh wonderful then! We heard that all too familiar jingle of the Crack Truck. We grabbed our flip-flops and some money and ran after it.
Three blocks later we were happy and all of our Wal-Mart troubles had disappeared into our sticky, soft serve cones.
Playing in the Sun (June 2015)
10 years ago