Took the kiddies to "The Cone Zone" tonight for "ice cream" after dinner. Of all the places we can go to get frozen confections in this town, Mr. Z has to go to the fucking "Cone Zone." It's like a cheaper Dairy Queen, if you can imagine. I mean, we're five minutes away from MSU's dairy store where they practically squirt the ice cream out of the quivering cow teats into your waiting maw, but nope, it's gotta be "The Cone Zone."
And it's hilarious, because every time we go there, the boy can't make up his mind. "I think I'll get an Avalanche! No, maybe a dipped twisty cone! No, wait, I want a shake!" But he always ends up getting a fucking Slushie. A SLUSHIE!?!?! What the shit?!
So, he gets his grape Slushie, Miss O gets a cookies 'n' cream Avalanche, the old lady gets a cappucino shake and I go for a chocolate shake. After two sips of his $2 cup of purple ice, he says, "Man! Why did I get a Slushie?! I should've gotten an Avalanche! I'm never getting a Slushie again!"
Oh, but you will, my son. You will. I've cursed the boy with my tentative gene pool. I'm the same way -- can't make up my mind. Can't commit. There might be something better! First it's a shake. Do I really want that? I don't know. That Slushie sure sounds good! Next thing he knows, he'll be stuck in his goddamn basement, afraid to take a vacation because he might miss something while he's away. Poor kid.
Then, as we're driving home, we pass the Kroger and what do we see in the parking lot? The fucking carnival is in town. Wheee! The kids are screaming, "Let's go to the carnival! Please! Can we?!" The old lady and I throw out a tandem, "Are you nuts?! Forget it!" Then Miss O starts bawling.
We took them to that piece-o-shit death orgy last year and Miss O cried the entire time while Mr. Z almost puked. Mr. Z wanted to go on that bungy-jump-trampoline-not-really-a-ride ride and decided he was going to try to do 20 back flips in a row. Well, he did. And when they unharnassed him, he looked like that Powder kid from that movie... what was it called? Oh, "Powder." It would have been hilarious if I didn't think he was going to have a fucking aneurysm. He looked like Shemp from that Three Stooges episode where he was pretending to be a little kid and he ate a box of cigars. And if any of you understand that reference, you're my fucking hero.
It was a goddamn nightmare. But I know I'm going to end up taking them there tomorrow. I just know it! Why? Because deep down, I probably believe that it'll be different this year. It'll be better, somehow. And if I don't take them, I might just miss the best ride ever! We might just have the time of our lives!
And it'll turn out to be a goddamn grape Slushie.