Status: Complete.
Choices
Ice Cream
“What do you want Alastair?”
Alastair lifted his eyes from the grey floor to his Mother’s. They gazed kindly down at him and gently probed for an answer.
“Um,” begun Alastair. The little boy pressed himself to his tiptoes and examined the rectangular tubs below.
Chocolate. Raspberry. Caramel. Banana. Peppermint. Butterscotch. Boysenberry.
There were too many for him to count. Too many that he wanted, but you could only have a maximum of three scoops per cone. Mother wouldn’t be happy if he bought five three scoop cones. No, no, no she wouldn’t be happy at all.
“Um,” pondered Alastair. The rainbow one looked nice - no! The vanilla! But that was so boring; the rainbow it was. “The b-bubbelgum please.”
“Bubblegum Alastair, bubblegum,” chided Alastair’s sister. She licked her chocolate drumstick smugly.
She hadn’t wanted a cone, she had wanted a drumstick, she said ‘only babies have cones and adults have drumsticks.’ But what did she know? She’s only seven, thought Alastair.
“Don’t be mean Zara,” scolded Mother softly, then she lifted Alastair up to peer down at the ice-cream tubs more closely. Zara sighed exuberantly. She muttered something under her breath about ‘babies’ and she stalked away to wait by the parlour door.
This didn’t bother Alastair, as he pressed himself against the glass and watched the ice cream shop worker (Alastair was sure there was a more tec-ten-better word to call them, but he didn’t know it, so he just stuck with worker for the time being, until he could find a better name) scoop a gigantic rainbow ball onto his cone.
How on earth was he going to eat that? But it still looked yummy.
“That’s two dollars m’am,” chirped the ice cream shop worker as he placed the ice cream cone in one of nearby holders. Mother handed him a gold coin and they exchanged polite pleasantries. She placed Alastair back on the ground. He huffed.
“Mummy? What about my ice cream cone?” asked Alastair, a pout forming on his lips; Mother couldn’t forget, she just couldn’t!
Mother laughed.
“Oh, Alastair I haven’t forgotten about you,” she grasped the cone from the holder and handed it to Alastair. “What do you say Alastair?”
“Thank you mummy,” said Alastair.
An ecstatic grin broke across his face. Mother smiled, took his hand in hers and led him out the parlour, followed closely by a boorish Zara. The triplet trudged slowly down the street back home, counting cars and numerous birds. All the while Alastair enjoyed his rainbow coloured ice cream, one lick at a time.
Alastair lifted his eyes from the grey floor to his Mother’s. They gazed kindly down at him and gently probed for an answer.
“Um,” begun Alastair. The little boy pressed himself to his tiptoes and examined the rectangular tubs below.
Chocolate. Raspberry. Caramel. Banana. Peppermint. Butterscotch. Boysenberry.
There were too many for him to count. Too many that he wanted, but you could only have a maximum of three scoops per cone. Mother wouldn’t be happy if he bought five three scoop cones. No, no, no she wouldn’t be happy at all.
“Um,” pondered Alastair. The rainbow one looked nice - no! The vanilla! But that was so boring; the rainbow it was. “The b-bubbelgum please.”
“Bubblegum Alastair, bubblegum,” chided Alastair’s sister. She licked her chocolate drumstick smugly.
She hadn’t wanted a cone, she had wanted a drumstick, she said ‘only babies have cones and adults have drumsticks.’ But what did she know? She’s only seven, thought Alastair.
“Don’t be mean Zara,” scolded Mother softly, then she lifted Alastair up to peer down at the ice-cream tubs more closely. Zara sighed exuberantly. She muttered something under her breath about ‘babies’ and she stalked away to wait by the parlour door.
This didn’t bother Alastair, as he pressed himself against the glass and watched the ice cream shop worker (Alastair was sure there was a more tec-ten-better word to call them, but he didn’t know it, so he just stuck with worker for the time being, until he could find a better name) scoop a gigantic rainbow ball onto his cone.
How on earth was he going to eat that? But it still looked yummy.
“That’s two dollars m’am,” chirped the ice cream shop worker as he placed the ice cream cone in one of nearby holders. Mother handed him a gold coin and they exchanged polite pleasantries. She placed Alastair back on the ground. He huffed.
“Mummy? What about my ice cream cone?” asked Alastair, a pout forming on his lips; Mother couldn’t forget, she just couldn’t!
Mother laughed.
“Oh, Alastair I haven’t forgotten about you,” she grasped the cone from the holder and handed it to Alastair. “What do you say Alastair?”
“Thank you mummy,” said Alastair.
An ecstatic grin broke across his face. Mother smiled, took his hand in hers and led him out the parlour, followed closely by a boorish Zara. The triplet trudged slowly down the street back home, counting cars and numerous birds. All the while Alastair enjoyed his rainbow coloured ice cream, one lick at a time.
♠ ♠ ♠
This has been revised - two years too late, I know - and I hope this was a pleasant read. Any comments are bravely wanted.