Chilled Revenge

As they say, revenge is best served cold. So is ice cream. Coincidentally, I must have both. 

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Let’s back up a little. I’m Jess, and I killed your father. JK! So, basically, this old scientist guy, who looks like a generic old man who has no wife and has a cat, Timothy Bucket, killed my father. He killed him with ice cream. He was killed with cold blood.

Bucket killed my father because he beat him during an ice cream contest. At the afterparty, he gave my father some of a special type of ice cream that contained a special kind of poison. It was caramel cocoa nib, the worst flavor!

My dad, David, ate the ice cream and choked on one of the poisonous cocoa nibs! He crumbled to tiny flakes of red ice cream that fluttered to the floor and then melted into a pool of blood as Bucket laughed maniacally. This is why I must avenge my father and kill Bucket.

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I, like my father, love ice cream. I, unlike my father, love motorcycles. He prefers cars to motorcycles. But I am a motorcycle pro! I love jumping on my bright, shimmery pink motorcycle as the paint dances in the sun and the engine purrs like a cat.

Bucket famously lives in a house on wheels with a bad paint job, so he is always on the move. I have traveled around the world and tracked him down. He’s headed towards Armpit, Nevada. I will meet him there. I will kill him like he killed my father.

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I zeroed in on his house/car. He was traveling down Highway 167. I was right behind him, weaving through the traffic and jumping over cones. As I approached him, he seemed to speed up. Or was it just my imagination?

I jumped onto the roof of his house and simultaneously pushed a button on my motorcycle that turned it into a briefcase. I used a mini flamethrower disguised as a lipstick to cut a hole into his roof and dropped down into his laboratory. He was making a big ice cream carton that said “time machine” in bright orange letters. His cat sat atop it. “You!,” he shouted, “ what in Ben & Jerry’s shugary sweet delights’ name are you doing here?!” His cat hissed. “My name is Jess Toddington. You killed my father. I will now kill you.” I said.

Bucket quivered with anger. Suddenly, I pulled out a sword, and he pulled out a lightsaber, and we started dueling. Shwish! Shwish! Clank! We dueled for hours. Finally, I duped him into thinking I would swipe left and then did a jump flip onto his head, killing him.

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20 years later

Now I run one of the most successful ice cream brands in the world.

I never make caramel cocoa nib ice cream. My most popular line is Time Machine. It has a bunch of nostalgic ice cream flavors, such as pineapple kiwi, which has actual pineapple chunks! Bucket’s cat, Jack, died of grief (actually, it was Sriracha, but who cares?).