How I Got My Ice Cream

I stepped out from the goddamn exam hall feeling like a convict on the first day of parole. The warm outside air massaged my face gracefully, relieving me of all the evil coldness of the hell hall I came out of. It was a very delightful feeling. This is my last paper, I though, what now? Where do I go from here? The possibilities seemed endless. God please show me a sign, I prayed.

It was exactly at that moment that the once soft gentle massaging hands of the warm outside air suddenly became harsh. I started sweating. The sudden change in temperature wasn’t good for me. This weather is killing me. I need to chill. CHILL! That was when I saw my sign… I realized that I needed a goddamn Ice Cream!

The question now was how do I get to my favorite Ice Cream Store? I don’t have car and the goddamn taxi cab fares are fucking insane; not that I blame them. It’s the fucking Economy! Somebody should please send this goddamn Economy on an all expense paid vacation, along with Shopping, Spa treatment and a hot High Class Escort on call 24/7. It needs to fucking chillax! Maybe when it comes back from the vacation relaxed, people can start affording shit around here again. Anyways, what I need right now is a fucking Ice Cream; and I’m going to get it, one way or the other.

Two minutes forty seven seconds later, I convinced three of my friends, one who owns a car to go get ice cream with me. They wanted to eat first, and since I was kinda hungry, I said whatthehell, I’m all for the Peri Peri. Seven minutes thirteen seconds after that, four hungry guys in a saloon car were speeding across town with one goal and one goal only – Get that Peri Chicken!

“Why the fuck do you care?”, I said in my mind when some crazy middle aged lady with really bad makeup asked why we ordered so much food. The whole time she was talking, I was thinking, Someone should get this poor medieval-age lady a modern day mirror, and teach her how to fucking use that shit. Then I realized mirrors probably haven’t changed a lot since the medieval ages. But then I also realize that it’s been five minutes and I was still talking to the weird old lady… and she’s fucking smiling! Are we bonding? I thought. This funny feeling in my stomach, is that our cycles synchronizing already? I sure hope not. It’s probably just hunger. Maybe she’s too goddamn old to even cycle. Why the fuck am I having these unhealthy thoughts on a dining table when there are three whole Peri chickens begging to be devoured? That’s just being rude to the tasty chickens!

I remember we were halfway through the meal when the “The Wristwatch” came up in conversation. I have a thing for wristwatches; I just thought I should mention that, but it has absolutely nothing to do with this story.

“The Wristwatch” was an awesome $10,000 wristwatch I saw on Fathers day when I wanted to take advantage of the sales and get myself another sweet timepiece. Who doesn’t like a discount? Moreover I’m probably going to be a Father some day, so it’s all good.

The thing was that my friends wanted to see “The Wristwatch”. The problem was that I had forgotten the shop I saw it, but then I love a treasure hunt! I immediately gathered all the bits and pieces of memory I had of the awesome watch and made a virtual treasure map in my head. Then I let the Indiana Jones in me lead the great adventure to the Kingdom of the Ridiculously Expensive Wristwatches.

We separated into two groups to look for the watch. The guy with the car and I were on the same team. It took us a good half of an hour to find the store. But the wristwatch wasn’t there. In it’s place, we saw a sign of the coming of the apocalypse in the form of a $13,500 timepiece.

“What makes this fucking expensive?”, my friend asked.

“How the fuck should I know?”, I replied him. “Why don’t you ask the goddamn bloody guy over there?”

The “goddamn bloody guy” in question was in fact not bloody at all. He was a very tired, hungry looking shop attendant that was most definitely bored out-of-his-mind from sitting all week alone with no costumers.

“Excuse me?”, my friend called the guy.

The guy sluggishly dragged his lazy feet over, and the conversation went a little like this –

“Is this thing made from diamonds?”

“No Sir”

“Platinum maybe?”

“No Sir”

“Some kind of rare metal no one knows about yet?”

“I don’t know Sir”

“Then why the hell is it this expensive?”

“I’m sorry Sir, I don’t set the prices here”

And with that the shop attendant dragged his lazy ass back to his lonely boring seat. I was the only one that actually heard what the guy really wanted to say –


And with that, we left the Kingdom Of the Ridiculously Expensive Wristwatches heroes. Although I’m not entirely sure the nature of our heroic act, or even if there was any at all.

Oh, and the Ice Cream… I almost forgot.

Immediately after our legendary adventure ended, I walked to my favorite Ice Cream store and got two scoops straight out of heaven from the gorgeous counter girl who I’m pretty sure was an angel.

Now that’s the true story of how I got my Ice Cream!


6 Responses to “How I Got My Ice Cream”

  1. 1 andie October 14, 2008 at 5:57 pm

    must have been one heck of an ice-cream

  2. 2 Ameeyn October 14, 2008 at 11:49 pm

    Haha… You have no idea.

  3. 3 rEaLT October 15, 2008 at 12:28 am

    LoooL! Kaima How i met your mother ko? “How i met my ice cream” LOL.

  4. 4 Ameeyn October 15, 2008 at 6:52 pm

    I never thought of it that way, hehe. But now that you mention it, I see the similarities 🙂

  5. 5 nursarahlam October 22, 2008 at 11:42 pm

    Ermm.. an interesting story but I am more interested to know which is your favourite ice cream store..and the flavour?

  6. 6 Al November 8, 2008 at 9:21 pm

    Let me put it this way: If I get a call from Hayden Penettiere & Jessica Alba at 2AM telling me to come over, and I have my 2 scoops of Vanilla & Coconut Ice Cream from Baskin Robbins, I’ll tell Hayden & Jessica to call someone else cause I’m busy 😛

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