So there I was, minding my own business, watching Netflix and eating Eggos with my boyfriend, when we heard it- That optimistic singsong chime that has forced parents to handover their spare change to tiny begging hands for the last fifty years- The Ice Cream Truck! And it was right there on O'leary st (our street), just jingling along, just audible over "My Cousin Vinny" so that my boy friend and I looked at each other with pie eyes before lunging out the door with our pocket change. Our driveway is really long so we were panting by the time we got the the street (we smoke, a lot.). We were also quite puzzled, since the brightly painted vehicle spewing loud music just seconds ago was now no where to be seen or heard. It was rather chilly outside and in our lust for sugary treats we had forgotten our coats, so, laden with disappointment, we trudged back to our barren apartment. For a few minutes once we got back, we sat in silence, contemplating the reasons behind the disappearing ice cream man.
"Fuck that! Lets go find the bastard. Get your coat." My boyfriend, who, in all honesty is kind of a candy fiend, grabbed the keys to our crappy blue ford truck and walked out the door, Superman sweatshirt in hand. I, not one to turn down what will surely be an adventure, grabbed my black leather jacket and hopped in the "Blue Menorah".
We didn't have to drive far, actually we just followed O'leary st two blocks down before we saw it, full of sweet sugary goodness, parked in the driveway of a run down house, that was brimming with trash and rusty nails. We parked inconspicuously across the street, and waited for the truck driver to return. The side door of the house opened, and a skinny Mexican-the Driver, followed by a fat Caucasian probably the owner of the slum, stumbled out. The white guy handed the Driver a wad of rolled up green bills. The Driver smiled and disappeared into his truck. He came out with a small brown bag (what it was full of, we'll never know. But I'm guessing it probably wasn't ice cream.) and he handed it to the chubby man standing in the doorway. They exchanged niceties, before the driver got back in his truck, careful not to turn the music back on until he turned onto another street. My boyfriend and I just giggled to each other as we drove to Safeway. We were still smiling about our adventure on the way home, and that night we ate a pint of Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream... each. What a wonderful way to spend a Saturday
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