A Short Tale

On Monday I had to make that long drive from Clinton to North Rock.  I left home at 4:23 with a cold can of Mountain Dew but no snacks.  I had Gerard Doyle  reading Chris Paolini to me, so the miles were rolling by at a quick pace.  I got to West Memphis a little after seven.  I decided to stop at the Dairy Queen there, instead of waiting for DQ at Forrest City, 33 miles further down the road.  I got my usual, a Flamethrower Burger and a Blizzard.  Sometimes I'll get the combo, but I decided that to eat healthy and skip the fries.  My large Blizzard had a lid on it when the lady handed it to me.  I peaked inside and made sure that the spoon was in the cup.  I was back in the car and headed down the road, when I discovered that my spoon was much shorter than my cup.

To a less accomplished ice cream eater this may have been too great a challenge to overcome.  However, I have honed my dessert eating skills to the highest degree through years of arduous training.  As I neared the bottom of the cup, I realized that DQ's mixer was also too short to perform its required task.  The last inch or so of my Blizzard was pure vanilla instead of the chocolatey goodness that the rest of it had been.  I did the best I could to stir in the chocolate dregs with my diminutive spoon.  Despite those annoyances, I had a dewishus meal.