It came again.
Once again, it prowled up the street, hungry, wanting, its hideous, hulking mass vomiting sonic pollutant as it slunk towards our driveway. I stood there, near the rear of the building, and watched it slide into view. It turned in once again, desperate for a soul, desperate enough to face me on the asphalt of battle whence it was so soundly defeated just two days before. I girded myself, and with a steely glint in my eye, carefully and deliberately turned my back on it, shunning the paragon of ultimate evil for all I was worth.
But it was not enough this time. It continued onwards, towards me, right for my back. I could feel its sinister aura emitting waves of the blackest evil, raising the hackles on my neck. It would not be so easy this time. It was not going to give up without a fight. The ground would be anointed with blood today.
But I was not alone. I had an unexpected ally. At the rear of our back parking lot was a delivery truck – eighteen wheels of fighting fury that few dared challenge – currently trying to exit the premises. The cab was jackknifing into position to roll its massive trailer behind it as it angled towards the driveway to leave. The same driveway the Hello Ice Cream Truck was coming in from. I wisely moved off of the pavement and on to the grassy berm that separated our parking lot from that of the building next door.
The Hello Ice Cream Truck rolled up to the mouth of the driveway that led into the rear parking lot. The delivery truck faced it down, a scant thirty feet between the two, and let loose a mighty honk that temporarily drowned out the ice cream truck’s withering cacophony. Startled, and understanding its impotency in the face of the big black and orange brute, the evil mecha veered off to the left, driving up a hump that led to the top of a raised ramp that terminated at one of our warehouse delivery doors. Ha! Not so tough now, are you, Hello Ice Cream Truck? Yeah, that’s right. I’ve got big friends, so don’t even think about it.
The delivery truck made its way up and out of the driveway. Hello Ice Cream Truck, visibly disturbed by the encounter, rounded the rear lot and drove back up the driveway. I was certain I detected an angry sullenness directed at me as it passed, almost as if to say, “This is not over.”
It pulled up to the end of the driveway, hugging the right curb, and stopped. The rear of the vehicle was just as festooned as the sides. Depictions of a rocket ice treat and a two-toned chocolate cone bracketed the rear door. An orange sign demanding that I “WATCH FOR CHILDREN” was ominously situated directly above the word “SLUSH.” A thinly-veiled threat of what awaited those it captured. The bile emitting from its speakers echoed off the building across the street, presenting an odd, delayed counterpoint. It didn’t move. It seemed to be planning. Plotting. I’m sure that if I was viewing it from the front, its grille would be furrowed in sinister thought. I was not going to wait around for the results of its brainstorm. I began to make my way back to the door that led into my office. As I did, two teens on bikes approached the creature, pleading with it for icy treats in exchange for money. It was horrifying. They had no idea what they were in for, and it was too late to save them. They received their treats and rode off; no doubt the Hello Ice Cream Truck kept an eye on where they went so it could go and collect the bodies later, once the “treats” had done their thing.
Poor kids.
I’m so glad she’s better and I will keep her, you and hubby in my thoughts and prayers.
