Friday, July 23, 2010

Frozen Drink on a Stick

I was living in New York one sweltering summer and on my way home I stopped at the bodega to buy a box of popsicles. In the freezer they went, and my quest for cool was soon quelled by a beer and the popsicles were forgotten for the night. Or so I thought.

The next day at work all I could think of was escaping the heat with a cool cherry popsicle once I got home. As soon as I walked in the door of the apartment I made an eager bee line for the freezer. I grabbed the box and it was light. A little too light. Like there was nothing in there, light. I turned it over and the flaps had been ripped open. Instead of 24 sweet and fruity popsicles there was a single dollar bill. My asshole roommate had eaten the entire box while I was gone and left me a dollar.

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