Conned!

Going back to the city from fall break was looking to be a dreary task, and my ipod (damn me for supporting them!) was dead and charging. So something needed to be done to kill time. Dinner was out of the question as it was far to early for my traditional-dinner-dad to eat. I was actually hungry, but that was neither there nor anywhere else.

I suggested ice cream; little sounded better right then than a little hot fudge sundae. I was thinking Sonic; it was close and rather inexpensive. I suggested this fat packed plan to my father, who would have had it no other way than to make the trip to ...Coldstone. Not wanting to argue and really, just wanting some free ice cream, I assented.

At coldstone, I realized what a silly dream the hot fudge sundae had been - just think of all of those brownie and carmel filled options! I was even willing to spend time mulling through the pricey possibilities to find the perfect concoction.

Alas, the line was nil and my father had not heard my mental exclamation of delight at all of the different flavors. He asked straightaway for a sundae and the gentleman behind the counter was confused.

I sighed, giving up, and declared that all I wanted was a hot fudge sundae. The gentleman shrugged and said he could put hot fudge over vanilla creme ice cream. I mentally rolled my eyes (I'm not entirely sure about the mental part) and said yes, that would be fine. My father ordered the same thing (except with black cherry ice cream - a desire that is most decidedly not burned into the genetic line) and we went to pay.

I was handed my hot fudge sundae, I looked and, while putting the black plastic spoon into the lard mountain and delivering it to my face, I forgot all desire to have some fancy schmancy ice cream. For that moment I delighted in the wonder that is Hot fudge and Ice cream.

It was to be the last; paid in full, we walked to the table and I grew melancholy as I realized that the fudge was congealing around my ice cream -- it was hardening hot fudge! I debated as to if I should tell my father. Eventually (2 seconds later) I gave in to my disappointment and let him know.

We devoured our ice cream in silence.

Epilogue:

While driving away, I made my remarks about the fudge again, "That first bite was awesome, but then the fudge started to harden," and then recalling my actual experience with the ice cream added, "But after that [the fudge] was basically a brownie, so who gives a s***?"
And so it was.