Sweet Release

Three in the morning is when it started. That incessant music playing over and over, again and again, at the exact same time. It never seemed to stop until I yelled out the window, watching the truck speed off. I had reported it to the police the next morning, the morning I couldn’t take it anymore. “We can’t do anything about this situation without proper license-”
“It’s an ice cream truck! In the middle of the god damn night! Do you not think that this is sketchy, at all?” They sighed.
“We can have an officer sit outside your home, if that would make you feel better.”
“Thank you.” I turned to leave with sarcasm dripping from my mouth
.
That night, I waited. I sat at my bedroom window, watching the officer and looking up and down the street for any signs of the annoyance. As it rolled around to two-thirty, I started to doze off.

Until I heard it.

It came early this time, the music blasting louder than usual. It slowed down across the street, cruising past houses. The officer flicked on the lights and shimmied behind it, the truck came to a stop. I stood still, and my heart was racing. Finally, I would be able to sleep peacefully. The officer stepped out of the car and met the balding man on the sidewalk. They chatted for a short while before they shook hands, and each went their separate ways. Is this the end? Would the truck leave?

A few nights have passed now, and I’ve grown used to the music. I reconnected with the police department, and they said the truck was in no way, shape, or form harmful. It was just a promotion for a remake of a movie filmed in the nineties and would only last a couple more days. I let out a sigh of relief as I climbed into bed that night.

What was weird to me, though, was ever since that truck started coming around, disappearances have popped up all over our small town. The truck had stopped coming, and my nights were once again peaceful.

It’s a shame I didn’t get to try the ice cream, though. I heard it’s to die for.