Like Stealing Ice Cream from Vampires

I was at a class picnic in a park on a balmy summer day, when I realized that I craved ice cream. The next thing I knew, I was standing at the counter of an ice cream shop ordering cookies n' cream, but to my dismay, I was informed by the grungy teenage ice cream clerk that my selection was sold out. I scanned the other flavors, even sampled a few, but nothing delivered the sweet creaminess with the crunchy chocolate cookieness that I suddenly intensely desired. After much deliberation and disappointment, the clerk told me in an exasperated tone, "I know what you need. Follow me."

He led me behind the storefront to a large warehouse building, which apparently functioned as an enormous walk-in freezer, though it was quite empty, save some loading docks and palettes. He handed me an old suitcase, bound tightly with packing tape and covered in a frost. From the handle hung a tag that said "Burnt Honey," and it contained the only ice cream that would satiate my demands. The clerk informed me that the flavor was still in development and not ready for release, so I had to be very discrete.

The enterprise had begun to feel rather clandestine. The clerk spoke in a low tone and frequently looked over his shoulder, and the overall emptiness of the storage room imbued me with a lugubrious discomfort. I shook his hand and thanked him for helping me find the best ice cream for my needs, but he suddenly shushed me and motioned for me to hide behind some pallets. Oblivion made me slow on the draw, and while I hid, a figure came over to investigate. I assumed he was some sort of supervisor, and maybe the clerk would be reprimanded for bringing a customer into the warehouse. The whole hiding thing seemd a bit unnecessary, so as the clerk explained the situation, I slinked out from the pallets and waited at a polite distance.

Suddenly the supervisor cocked his head, and instantly he turned and bolted toward me. As he grew near, I saw that his features were contorted demonically, his eyes burned like cinders and from his gaping mouth grew two enormous fangs. He leapt toward me with supernatural flight, and just as his jagged orifice was inches away from my face, a shot rang out and he exploded into a cloud of viscera. Some distance behind the cloud, I now saw the ice cream clerk/vampire slayer holding a smoldering shotgun at his hip.

I was somewhat shaken. The clerk sprinted over to me and explained that I had to leave immediately, because every other employee at the ice-cream factory was a vampire. He led me up into an adjacent factory building, pursued by a legion of the ice cream vampires who had heard the gunshot. We raced up several flights of stares, but somehow became separated. With the ice cream vampires still in hot pursuit, I quickly slipped into a women's bathroom and opened a window to get outside. I climbed into the window frame, briefcase of burnt-honey ice cream still in hand, and prepared for an epic leap to another rooftop many yards down and separated by a large gulf. Then I woke up.


ps. Hey kids, dreams can come true!