Two Scoops

How she could be with someone like him he still couldn’t understand. He was so bland, like a tall, muscular cone of vanilla ice cream. Sure, the part of the cone with the ice cream (presumably the face) was handsome, maybe even more handsome than himself, but it was boring. It had no character. He on the other hand had character. He was like mint chocolate chip ice cream and not just because of his moles, but personality wise too. You weren’t going to lick all the way through him and fall asleep because you just licked through an entire human head made of vanilla ice cream. There would be the mint ice cream part and then every once in a while you’d get a chocolate chip! Everyone loves chocolate chips. And sure, he guessed she could call the placement of those chocolate chips “erratic” or “unbalanced,” like she had referred to his non-ice cream self before, but who the fuck liked plain vanilla anyways? Idiots! She was an idiot! A goddamn idiot! Why was everyone looking at him like that? Why was vanilla cone standing in front of her, like shielding her? Had he been yelling again?