Come Here, My Little Pretty!

Tonight's weather involves rain, a smidge of lightning and thunder, and a severe thunderstorm warning. So imagine my surprise when I heard the familiar jingle of The Ice Cream Man.

Seriously? Are your over-priced popsicles worth the risk of kids running out in a thunderstorm just to purchase your products???

Hell yeah, it is!

What is it about The Ice Cream Man? When I was young, I'd hear the bell and the music from a block or so away and race to find my mom (or rather, her wallet.) A colorful van would pull up to the curb, and a group of us neighborhood kids would gather round and heartily snatch up his tasty treats. It was frikkin' magical!

As an adult, I think back to many moments in my childhood - moments that seemed "normal" and "okay" then...but now? Not so much. Like running the neighborhood at seven years old, returning home only because it was getting dark. Or sledding down 'Kill Hill' because supposedly two kids died in a toboggan mishap. Or riding a bike WITHOUT A HELMET.

Or running out to The Ice Cream Man, whose lecherous looks and creepy music beckoned kids from afar. Things I swore I'd never let my kid partake in.

Yeah. Mouth can hear The Ice Cream Man eight blocks away. No lie. At the first tinkle of music, he bolts down the stairs (many times falling down the last four steps) and yells, "He's here! Gimme some money!!!" And of course I cave. The Ice Cream Man pulls up, and he's just as creepy as I thought he'd be. Although he had professional-looking pictures of his merchandise on the side of the van, I still searched for some sort of health department license to guarantee he wasn't selling poison. I also asked his name so I could run it through the sex offenders database.

But he turned out to be okay. Nice guy...mostly toothless but drives reeeeal slow by our place so Mouth has a chance to fall down the stairs and find money. And no poison in the popsicles yet.

Yesterday Mouth again sensed the now-familiar creepy jingle and flew out the door. I went with him (mostly because I was digging change out of the bottom of my bag.) We ran around to the service side of the van...and stopped. This wasn't the regular Ice Cream Man. This was a skeezy imposter!

He said, "Heeeey there...what can I get you two darlings?" He only sold six items - and his menu was spray-painted on a board he taped to his van.

Oh. Hell. No.

I grabbed Mouth and ran back across the street. Mouth was all, "Dude, he's creepy!"

THANK YOU, CAPTAIN OBVIOUS.

About 30 minutes later we heard music jingling again. I cautiously peeked out my window - and saw our familiar Ice Cream Man coming down the street. I yelled, "He's here! The legit guy is here!" Mouth and I both ran out, and I honestly wanted to kiss that creepy guy!

So now to my surprise, and to Mouth's pleasure, I'm more than happy to buy (and eat) ice cream from a toothless guy who prolly lives in his van.

But I'm drawing the line at drinking vodka tonics while driving an RV cross country.

Not that my father ever did that.

(It was the 70's, for christ sake!)