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I Scream For Ice Cream

By Joanna Bettelheim

I do not regret losing my virginity to you, late one night while watching a documentary on Alan Turing.

What I regret is introducing you to Jeni’s Splendid Ice Cream.

You had never heard of this artisan ice cream from Ohio before I showed you their website. Thick cream swirling, fresh berries bursting, molten chocolate sauce flowing. Our stomachs were so turned on we ordered a yearlong subscription to their Pint Club. Yes, we were roommates, and yes, we had had sex for the first time just last week. But this was real entanglement.

The first shipment arrived in January, full of promise and dry ice. It was a new year, and though I lacked the courage to ask you what our situation meant, I looked forward to finding out. Along with the ice cream came four silver spoons designed for optimal enjoyment: wide, shallow, gourmet shovels. We arranged the pints to take photographs and ceremoniously slid our special spoons into the top layer for a tantalizing taste of each flavor. Salty Caramel, Seven Layer Bar, Lemon Buttermilk Tart. You were not disappointed.

 

     

About the Author

Joanna Bettelheim is pursuing her MFA in Writing from Sarah Lawrence College. She is the Marketing Director for the program's literary journal, LUMINA, as well as a founding editor of Moon-Birds. Her work has previously appeared in Exposition Review's Flash 405 and Breadcrumbs Magazine. She has fulfilled her life's dream of swimming with manatees, so everything else is gravy. You can find her spur-of-the-moment witticisms (and photos of her cat, Moonpie) on Instagram and Twitter as @thewelllostmind.

 

 

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