Either: (13) If I were An Ice Cream Sundae


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EITHER: (13)

If I Were An Ice Cream Sundae
Do you believe in re-incarnation? I do. I always think about what I would want to be if I were re-incarnated. Of all the things in the world I think I would want to be an ice cream sundae. Not just any ice cream sundae, a perfect one. Everyone would want to eat me. I would be a royal ice cream sundae, with only the finest vanilla ice cream, three scoops instead of two. The most chocolaty, thick, and delectable chocolate syrup would serve as my royal robe, completely encircling me. Then I would have the creamiest home-made whipped cream, sitting like a bubble on top of me. My next layer would be nuts - whole walnuts and almonds. Finally, a bright red maraschino cherry would be my crown. I think I will go make myself an ice cream sundae now!

Being Weird
Before we are born, we find out the meaning of life. But, as we are being born, that is all erased. So we have to figure it all out on our own with no help at all. Can you tell me this? How fair is that? If we knew everything, life would be SO easy. But every once in awhile, a child is born that does not forget. So they can see the future. Not all the time, but every so often, they will catch a glimpse of the future or hear an answer. Answers to the questions everyone asks but no one knows the answers for sure…except these special few. Why are these few chosen? I guess it's just a freak coincidence. There are…I think 100 in the world. For all we know, Mother Teresa could have been one. Many won't believe me when I tell them. But, I swear to you, what I am telling you is true. How, you may ask, do I know all this? I am one of those few. I am one of those "freaks". Being weird…fun, huh?

Pathetic Stupid Losers Dating Service

Hello everyone! We here at Pathetic Stupid Losers Dating Inc. help people find dates. The people we help find dates for are usually pathetic, stupid or just plain losers. If any of those descriptions apply to you, we may change your life forever. This is how we work, you pay us $39.95 and we will set you up on a date with another pathetic, stupid loser just like yourself! All you have to do is call our 800 number, answer a few questions about what you want and you're on your way! So if you're pathetic, stupid or just a plain loser, we're you're dating service for you! Does this sounds too good to be true? Well, to show just how serious we are, let's talk to George. He phoned us a year ago complaining that he was a loser. Now look at him, he's married to someone just like himself! What can you lose? Remember, if you're pathetic, stupid or just a plain loser, we're you're dating service and we're here for you! So phone now!

I'm not hardened, Mother. You see, it's all real to me. I've suffered it. I've been shoved and bullied. I've had my arms twisted. I've been made to scream with pain in other ways. I've been flung into a filthy cell with a lot of other poor wretches as if I were a sack of coals being emptied into a cellar. And the only difference between me and the others was that I hit back. Yes I did. And I did worse. I wasn't nice or polite. I cursed. I called names. I heard words that I didn't even know that I knew, coming out of my mouth. The policeman repeated them in court. The magistrate said he could hardly believe it. I said it was all right; that I remembered myself using those words. I wouldn't tell who I was, of course, for your sakes at home here; and I wouldn't say I was sorry, or apologize, or anything of that sort. I wasn't sorry. So the judge reported that I seemed hardened. Then I was sentenced to a day in jail…Oh, if they'd all fought as I fought we'd have beaten them.

You want to know why I do all that... why I can't be normal and have a clean life. Well it’s because I had no clean life, my mom drinks, my dad does drugs and he is abusive. You look so surprised. I wouldn't if I were you. I do all the things they do. I learned from them! So why don't you call them in and see what they have to say about that! I know what they'll say, they'll say, "we never did any of that... she's making that up so she can get attention.” But, I have proof that they do! Call them at 9 tonight…I dare you to call at 9 tonight..then tomorrow you'll call me back in and you will apologize for everything. But you'll say why am I drinking and doing drugs? I'll tell you, it's so I can have a real family, the druggies and drunks everyone hates are the ones that hangout with me every night … Goodbye.


Today's my anniversary. Four years ago, I began a new life - a life of torture. I got.....braces. Well, I can deal with wax and rubber bands. I can deal with aching teeth. I can even deal with the headgear, but NOTHING comes close to my biggest enemy: Wonder Bread sandwiches. Have you ever noticed that when you eat Wonder Bread sandwiches, they get, well, sticky. Add in metal brackets, and you can raise the sticky factor to the 20th power. So you're sitting there, when you realize, you've got a Wonder Bread sandwich particle stuck in your braces and you just want to die. My dad says it will all be worth it when my teeth are straight and perfect, but who wants to be perfect anyway? … Yeah, me too.

Excuse me? Mr. Lee, sir? Could I talk to you? Thank you, sir. I’ve, uh, I’ve got a bit ofproblem. It’s my locker, sir. Uh, it’s, well, it’s full of...worms, sir, big brown ones. No, sir, I didn’t put them there. No, sir, I’m not really sure where they came from. Just opened up my locker this morning before class and well, um, it was like...How you doing? Very strange,sir. No, sir, no one else has them. Just me. Yes, sir, big brown ones; fat too, all over my calculus book and my copy of “Crime and Punishment” and winding all through my gym clothes. No, sir. No ideas. I’m kinda stumped on this one. Could we flame out my locker?

I don’t know why I dreamed that. I guess because I ate so many Hershey’s kisses before I went to bed. But, still, to dream about a chocolate sundae coming to life and chasing you... is a little strange. And what’s stranger, was when I started to slide down a chocolate fudge mountain. Well, I mean, it’s sounds fun, but not if you’re wearing a white suit. And then, when I got to the bottom, all sticky and gross, I fell into the hot fudge and thought it would be worse. Instead, when I came out, I was clean. Suddenly, I was walking through a dense forest. It was real creepy. And then I smelled fries. Not just any fries; it was the fries. The fry guys!


I think the most traumatic experience of my younger life was being forced to eat foods that I was sure were going to kill me. Like broccoli or my mother’s specialty...re-fried beans. I was very creative with her beans. Sometimes I would purposely do something bad so my parents would send me into the dining room to eat. Then I’d wrap the beans up in a napkin and put them under the rug. Later on I’d go get them and throw them away. Unless…I forgot. Then they’d sit under the rug until the next time we had beans. Not a pretty sight. When my parents stopped sending me into the dining room to eat, I had to come up with some new ideas.

I hate my brothers so much! They always make fun of my zits. I do have acne, but do they have to remind me? I always call them zits because they don’t deserve better names. Why did God make zits? I mean, he could have just never invented them and everyone would do just fine. I tell myself not to eat chocolate, but I do anyway- I love chocolate! That’s like with my braces... I can’t chew gum! Do you know how boaring life would be without chocolate and gum? I’d rather not think about it.

Once I got really mad at my sister, and my mom and dad were gone, so I couldn’t run to them. I ran outside with my cat and started off into the woods. It was winter and everything was quiet except for the sounds of my walking. There was snow everywhere and a huge tree that towered over me, and I was alone. That’s what was nice. It reminded me of a postcard with an Indian on it instead of me. I really wish sometimes that I was an Indian and there were no factories and cars and pollution. Life’s a lot simpler like that. It’s just finding food, eating, and just living with no time to worry about what other people think of you. No one cares if you not as (girl) pretty (boy) handsome or as good as someone else. You just have to worry about what’s going on right now.


Looking up ... all those stars ... they’re like pinpricks in black construction paper with

a spotlight behind them. So many of them. And there’s a patch that looks like a cloud at first, but then you see that it’s just stars so packed together that they start to run together….Like salt. It’s a cliché, I guess, but it really does make you think. Consider it all. Maybe we really don’t matter. All our stuff, all the Coke and Big Macs that we’ve got stored up ... they’re about as important as ... one breath. And all this is a lifetime. I mean we could all be snuffed out, just like that! We’re gone, and ... this is the good part ... it would all go on. No change. Nice night, huh?


It’s not really fair that things have to change. I mean, you have something really good, like an ice cream cone. It’s going great, and then suddenly things start to change; the ice cream starts to melt. And if you can’t change and eat the ice cream fast enough, it melts and all you have left is hot, runny ice cream. Like before my parents got divorced. My life was great. I was a pampered little kid, with what I thought was a great family. Well, I guess my parents didn’t realize how hot it was getting. The ice cream was melting. Andt they didn’t even think about me. They didn’t even care. But that’s how life is; our ice cream just melted and we couldn’t stop it... I don’t know... maybe it is better.

FEMALE: (35)
Why, how impolite of him. I asked him a civil question, and he pretended not to hear me. That's not at all nice. There’s no need to be rude! I say, Mr. White Rabbit, where are you going? Mr. Rabbit? Mr. Rabbit?!? Hmmm. He won't answer me. And I do so want to know what he is late for. I wonder if I might follow him. Why not? There's no rule that I can't go anywhere I please. I--I will follow him. Oh! Mr. Rabbit please wait! Don’t leave me here. If you please, sir-- No! Come back. You dropped your…Dear, dear! How peculiar everything is today. Oh well…wait, Mr. Rabbit. I'm coming, too!

How curious. I never realized that rabbit holes were so dark . . . and so long . . . and so empty. I believe I have been falling for five minutes, and I still can't see the bottom! Hmph! After such a fall as this, I shall think nothing of tumbling downstairs. How brave they'll all think me at home. Why, I wouldn't say anything about it even if I fell off the top of the house! I wonder how many miles I've fallen by this time. I must be getting somewhere near the center of the earth. I wonder if I shall fall right through the earth! How funny that would be. Oh, I think I see the bottom. Yes, I'm sure I see the bottom. I shall hit the bottom, hit it very hard, and oh, how it will hurt!

Hello. My name is Rose, but you may know me better as "Sleeping Beauty." I just have a few things I want to get out in the open. You know, ever since that stupid prince woke me up, I have been getting a lot of grief from people who have no right sticking their noses into my business. Everyone seems to think that just because some guy kissed me and woke me up, I should marry him. I barely know him. I'm not going to marry someone I hardly know. And, of course, we mustn't forget the fact that I'm already betrothed. I know it's been a hundred years. I know he's dead, but he does have descendants. I can just marry someone down the line. I must stay true to my parents promise. Well, I'd better get going. I've got to go find a younger branch on my fiancée's family tree. But before I go, just because someone breaks a spell that doesn't give them any claim to your future.

Hi. My name is Goldilocks and I've been the victim of a bad rap all these years. Mothers always tell their children: "Don't be like Goldilocks.” Well, I'd like you to hear my side of the story. I did walk into the Bears' house when they weren't home. I readily admit that, but they had this sign on the door that said "Welcome". I'm no fool. I know what that word means. And about that porridge. Porridge? Wallpaper paste with a few raisins in it. That stuff was awful! Now, I did break a chair. One chair! One cheap little chair that wouldn't even make it in a yard sale! And then there were the beds. No wonder those bears were always off walking in the woods, they were looking for a soft place to lay their heads and take a nap. So sue me! I’m not such a bad kid. It's all the media's fault.


I have very little to tell you. I have little to tell because I didn’t go to the ball. Yes, my work was complete and my dress was lovely, but it was torn and thrown into the fire. My step sisters were at fault. They claimed that it was an accident. I’m sorry to disappoint you so. If I tell you a secret, do you promise not to tell a soul? Well, I did go to the ball. Shhhhh! No one must know! I arrived in a grand coach made of ivory and gold with a Coachman and a groom and four white horses! My gown was the most beautiful gown I’d ever seen. And the slippers were made of glass. It was all so wonderful. The prince? He was . . . Oh, well, he was wonderful too!


You'll excuse me for not doing the whole "appearing in a cloud of stardust" routine, but my back is killing me. Besides, stardust is expensive, and our budget just got cut. Whenever there are cutbacks in the Fairy Tale World, the magic department always feels it first. Now I can't even afford a new wand. My old one has been in the shop twice in the past week. It’s not because of cutbacks – Cinderella overloaded it! That girl really cracks my crystals! All I hear is whine, whine, whine:"I need a coach. I need footmen and a groom. I need a dress." And just when I think it's all over: "I need shoes." So I gave her those glass slippers and I hope she has to walk over some rocky terrain! Well, I better go. I just have one request. Please write a letter to the Queen of Hearts and ask her to give us a little slack in the magic department. I speak not only for myself. The genies are running out of bottles.

Hey, uh, Cinderella, I kind of need those slippers. I’m trying to get my security deposit back…Look, I was just doing my job. You meet some rich kid and fall in love, not my problem. Just give me back the slippers and I’ll be on my way…What?!? What do you mean you don’t have the slippers? You have to have the slippers! I gave them to you for only one night…just for the Prince’s ball…You took them off? At the castle? And you left them there when the clock struck midnight? Why? Don’t you know how much those shoes cost me? What about the dress? Did you leave that at the castle as well? You…You…You’re driving me crazy! I’m going to…Well…No… But you just wait, Cinderella…We’ll settle this! Remember, you owe me!

I am so sick of being called the Wicked Queen! I am not wicked, I'm obsessive. There's a big difference. All I ever wanted was to be the fairest in the land. Maybe attempted homicide was a bit extreme, but that doesn't make me evil. Do you have any idea what it's like to constantly be around someone you know looks better than you? It's terrible! Besides, I was doing a favor for all of humankind. That girl is just too happy for her own good! I was so sick of the blue birds flying around the castle all the time. Who do you think cleaned that up? It wasn't Snow White, I'll tell you that. All I'm saying is that it wasn't completely my fault, but I'm still destined to go down in fairy tale history as "the wicked queen."

I awoke with the sensation that I was not alone in the room. My hands were shaking and I felt a cold drop of sweat roll down my face. My eyes peeled open and surveyed every corner of the room. Nothing looked different or the least bit suspicious, but I still felt the presence of someone. I heard a creaking coming from my bathroom door. I soon realized that it was the same sound I had heard every night. I glanced at the clock. It was 10:30. It was a Thursday night, exactly two days after my 14th birthday. As I began to tuck myself back into my bed, I was distracted by a bright red Converse shoe sticking out of my closet. And, it was still on someone's foot! I reached over and turned on my bedside lamp. As the light flicked on, my closet doors, bathroom and bedroom doors all flew open to display my best friend Megan and seven of my other friends, clad in birthday decorations yelling, "surprise!!" I unclenched my fists, sighed with relief and laughed along with my friends.

It's like this, see. You guys don't do it right. No, just hear me out. You don't. In America you treat driving like it's a responsibility. In Italy, driving is an expression of your personality. Okay, some of you do it okay, but mostly it's the brain-dead teenage boys who're trying to prove what big men they are -- they drive recklessly and call it brave. In Italy, we don't think about brave or chicken, we think about owning the road. Yeah, I know it's just an expression here, but there it's a lifestyle. If we drive like lunatics, honking and yelling, that means we're alive and loving it. You Americans dent a fender and you fall to pieces, worrying about insurance and lost time. In Italy a car without war wounds is a showpiece in a garage. You want to live? Walk away from a five car pile-up with a smile on your face.

I used to worry that I would never have a boyfriend. I was so scared that I'd go through life pitifully alone. But you know, when I finally gave up searching for one, he kind of just fell into my lap. Raphael has been my best friend for all my high school years. He's sweet, caring, and he's always been there when I needed him. It was like destiny that we were friends. Then something horrible, something stupid, happened. Rafe got run over. I was going home with him. My brother offered us a ride down to Rafe's car, at the other end of the parking lot, but instead of getting in the car, we got on the hood. Yeah I know it's stupid. I keep seeing him slide off, the look on his face when the tire went over his leg. It was horrible! Anyway, about three weeks after the accident, after going to see him every day after school, I think it clicked. He asked me to our school's dance, and that was that. Maybe we needed the accident.

What were you going to say? Let me guess... you're just a kid. That's what it always boils down to, isn't it? But, just like any other human on this planet, I do have feelings. Yes, I do. I feel pain. I feel sadness and sometimes like my life's not worth anything. But, I'm too young to understand right? Then tell me, when are my feelings going to count for something? If us "kids" really are just kidding ourselves, and we just don't experience any true emotions, then how is it that so many adult are screwed up because their childhood was a mess? You know why? Because they did feel something. It happened to you, so what are you letting it happen to me? You’re no different than everyone else, continuing this... this vicious cycle! Where's it going to stop Mom?


My English teacher once told me that he didn't think of God as a spirit or anything, he thought of God as a part of every human being. God is innocence and the supposed "Satan" was whatever evil we contained inside ourselves. Anyways, what I'm trying to say is that if Satan or evil was a part of me, it would be a big part. I've been trying to fit in some kind of innocence but it like there's no room left in my body. Today I tried thinking of ways to exploit myself or abuse myself. I tried so hard to degrade myself but a large part of me liked it. I want a certain life. In no way is this life sick or sadistic. It's pure. It's beautiful. I want that deeply. So much so that I would want to die if I couldn't have it…but I don't think I can have it. That place is heaven and I don't deserve heaven. But I'm trying, I'm trying real hard to make it to heaven … and that leaves me with hope.

It took my uncle seven years to drink himself to death. First he lost his job, then his wife and finally his driver’s license. He retreated to his house and had everything delivered. One night he tried to go downstairs to the basement--and he flew down the stairs. They found him at the bottom of the stairs…Just steps away from his room. Sometimes I think of my uncle as a kind of Flying Dutchman. In the opera, the Dutchman is doomed to wander the sea; but every seven years he can come ashore--and if he finds a maiden who will love him of her own free will--he will be released. And I see Uncle Peck in my mind, in his Chevy '56, a spirit driving up and down the roads of Carolina--looking for a girl who, of her own free will, will love him.
Sure, I'm a clown. I'm a joke a minute! See, I used to have a great group of friends. We did everything together. But something changed. I don't know what I did or what I said. But one day I walked up to my friends in front of the school. They were laughing and talking like we always did. But they were standing in this tight little circle, and when I tried to stand next to somebody, they wouldn't let me in! Well, they didn't really push me out.. They just sort of acted like I wasn’t there. I wanted to cry, but instead I just started laughing. That’s the way it has been ever since. I still have no idea of what changed … what I did … what I said … whatever … I started laughing then. What a joke! Wasn’t it funny? So – I've been trying to keep laughing ever since.


I wanted to be a sex goddess. And you can laugh all you want to. They used to laugh at Marilyn when she said she didn't want to be a sex-goddess, she wanted to be a human being. And now they laugh at me when I say, "I don't want to be a human being; I want to be a sex-goddess." That shows you right there that something has changed, doesn't it? Rita, Ava, Lana, Marlene, Marilyn -- I wanted to be one of them. We were all living together, me and these three gay boys, in this loft on downtown. We were all old-movie buffs.. And then my friend came in and told us all to sit down -- and he said -- he said -- "Marilyn Monroe died last night" -- and all the boys were stunned -- but I -- I felt something sudden and cold in my solar plexus, and I knew then what I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to be the next one!

I stopped laughing a long time ago. I stopped crying not too long after that. When my father died. I think I killed him. I wouldn't laugh. I wouldn't laugh at his jokes. All he wanted was for me to laugh at his jokes. That's not hard. What's so bad about that? I don't know if he ever knew that I loved him. I don't know if he ever knew that I thought he was funny. I loved him more than anything in this world. I don't think he ever knew that. I loved him. Two months before he died, he asked me to join him in a game we used to play. I told him no. He looked so hurt. It was like I was rejecting him, the childhood that he gave me. I didn't even care. I just shrugged my shoulders. I had to be cool, I had to be a teenager. I had to be defiant, and not listen to my parents. Then he died. He died and he never knew. I never got to say goodbye. I never got to say "I love you" one last time. I love you daddy. I'm still your little girl. Hold me please daddy, just for a little while. Please daddy.

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