I Gave It The Dog

‘Who wants to go for ice cream cones?’ No interest in that for this junior poindexter. There’s the flat bottomed cone melting soggy w/ its pressed sugar design & smell & disintegrating paper texture when the ice cream interacts w/ it on any Midwestern hot summer day & night. Sugar cones looked better but leaked steady from the bottom & held the scoop most precariously. If the scoop didn’t fall off right away, then each drip hinted at impending disaster. The scoop never just fell off, it always catapulted onto shirt, pants & shoes in evil trajectories. Nothing but one big mess. I contented myself w/ a quick lick around the edges before sharing the rest w/ black Labrador Mac. He was well suited to eat cones, with his self-cleaning fur coat & his ability to lick food off of any surface w/out contracting lockjaw. My ice cream epiphany occurred one day at a south suburban Dairy Queen reading the menu from the back seat of a two door cougar w/ an arm around Mr. Mac. What about this Banana Split? Three scoops of ice cream & three sauces – tried & true strawberry & chocolate & exotic pineapple too, all nestled between a split banana & served in a paper boat, w/ a Spoon. No looking back. After that, scenes of my tearful spotted peers attempting to finish a cone w/out catastrophe never dissuaded me from marching up to the window w/ confidence & order “One banana split please & a small vanilla cone for the dog!’ MC