I love watching fat kids eat ice cream.
Nothing but pure desire lusting from their dewy eyes onto the ice cream cone.
As the sugar and milk conspire with the sweat of his grubby hands, this little boy struggles to keep clean.
Although, he stays on track, smiling and rushing, impulsively to get another bite.
Not only would it satisfy his taste buds, but it would fix the mess that could occur.
I wonder why he thinks thats the best solution.
I wish I liked ice cream still. I don’t remember the day I stopped liking ice cream. I still eat it, but I never want it. I actually had ice cream today.
I want that feeling of ice cream melting down my hand. The sheer anxiety, rush, and fear that he feels in an instant before his tongue no longer licks the ice cream but licks his ice-cream covered hand: thats the feeling I want to feel. I wish that would be my biggest worry.
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