Wednesday, 3:14 AM, July 4th 2012
The song was starting to haunt my dreams at that point. My eyes hurt when I opened them, and I briefly wondered if I should just go back to sleep and try again tomorrow.
The truck outside slowed down to a stop next to my mom’s midnight bluebeard bushes. A stand on the side flew open, bouncing twice before settling midair, held up by iron chains.
A massive American flag was tied up to the plastic cone on top of the truck like a superhero cape, flowing proudly despite the complete lack of wind.
I’d forgotten it was the fourth of July.
Max was faster than me; he was already out the front door while I was blindly reaching for some slacks to throw over my sleeping dress.
I creeped out of my room, checking the hallway on each side like I was crossing the road. On my tip toes, I made my way to my parents’ bedroom.
I pressed my ear to the door, holding my breath to hear if they were sleeping. There was no snoring; an unusual thing for him because he slept like a tractor working in the fields.
Sometimes, he too would stay up all night for no reason, blankly staring at the tv but not actually watching anything.
I looked into the bathroom. Empty. I went down the stairs, skipping over those that creaked and stretched my neck to see if there was a shadowy figure on the couch. Nothing.
The kitchen was the same. The counters were spotless and organized the way mom liked it. I almost missed it; one of the blue chairs was slightly off to the side, stepping out of the carpet.
I put it in its place, only to find that something else was now amiss. The fridge magnets, souvenirs from vacations back to Albania, were now cluttered up in a corner.
I separated them, turned around, remembered I was still holding one piece in my hand, turned around again and they were ganged up in the same place like I hadn’t just fixed them up.
There was a fly buzzing around my head, obnoxiously bumping too close to my ear. I didn’t bother arranging them this time, only swiped my hand across it and hoped no one would notice that the castle was now upside down.
“Whatever,” I said to nobody. “I’m just seeing things. Everything is okay. Everything is alright.”
The fly went into my ear, freaking me out even more. I swatted at it, hitting my own face harshly. It bounced off into the wall and with a hard slap, I killed it.
The entire house shook with the impact. My lungs drew in involuntary breath. The lamp trembled from the short earthquake. I waited for the lights next door to turn on, for my parents to come thundering down, for the neighbor to start a dramatic howl everyone would roll their eyes to. But nothing happened.
I didn’t even realize I was moving until the sliding glass door was locked. I had my keys with me, even though I didn’t remember picking them up. I even had my wallet with all its contents: 32 dollars, library card and three random sticky notes with water damage from the time I dropped it into a puddle.
The ice cream truck was a pale pastel pink, with hundreds on stickers taped over it, all with a candy motif. Big bubblegum letters read “Hoar-Frost Ice Cream” on the side, a smaller sentence beneath it: “All our products are 100% natural and produce by humane matter!”
Bad grammar aside, Max, Owen and three other faceless people had camped out in MY front yard like it was nothing, sitting down in benches drilled into concrete.
I swear I heard an alarm bell go off into the distance, so muted I had to strain to hear it before it was gone.
“Hey! You made it!”
“Shhhh! Keep your voice down!”
He placed a finger in front of his mouth, getting up and shaking dust of his pants. “Let me introduce you to Max, my new friend and Jack, my new best friend!”
“I thought I was your best friend.” I hit him in the arm, only half joking. He’d met the guy yesterday and he was like, probably thirty and on the verge of being caught by the FBI.
“Hi,” Max whispered meekly. His eye looked worse in the dim light. He was more tired than ever, shoulders dropping low and his knees pulled to his chest. He was nursing an oval cherry ice cream on a stick, already half finished and melting on his hand.
“Hey.”
“That’s for horses.”
“What?”
“What?” He jumped up on his seat, looking around like he was unsure of anything around him. He took another experimental lick. “Sorry, I was joking around.”
“Oh, okay…”
There was an outstretched moment of awkward silence, before Owen poked me into the truck’s direction. “Look at the menu.”
It was a large table with over fifty different flavors, each with its own tagline on the bottom.
📷 Tonic of Lightning: Control the weather!
📷 Potion of Chaos: Brings a new event into your life!
📷 Tonic of Transcendence: See into the unknown.
📷 Flask of the Archmage: Not sure what it does yet!
📷 Elixir of Iron Skin: Invincible!!
📷 Philter of Thunder: More weather control, but now with hints of dirt.
📷 Philter of Desires: 18+ only!
📷 Brew of Ecstasy: Seriously, legal adults only.
📷 Philter of Intellect: Pass all of your exams!
📷 Phial of Foresight: You should’ve seen this one coming!
📷 Brew of Twilight: Berry Chocolate Blast. Makes you happy.
Very few of them gave any hints of what literal flavor the ice cream was. Instead, they were named like Dungeons & Dragons potions, at least, half of them were.
The other half were just normal names: Oliver, sad artist, James, football player, Todd, told some very funny jokes, Emma, here because representation. It was ridiculous and slightly unnerving, like joke that didn’t quite land properly.
I was so into reading the list, trying to figure out a meaning behind the hipster bullshit, that I didn’t notice him until he was a literal inch away from my face.
“HOWDY!”
“FUCK!” I must’ve jumped back half a foot, slamming back into the cold metal with a solid thunk. It burned when it hit my bare elbow, the friction ripping of some of my skin with it.
I could see all three of them laughing, but it played like a comedic soundtrack, jarring and crowded.
“My name is Jack! What wish can I make come true for you today?”
“What?”
He laughed again; mouth open to reveal four rows of shark-like teeth. A string of slime connected them together in a truly disgusting sort of way.
He was clearly young, early twenties at best and ridiculously attractive. Tousled blonde curls, deep brown eyes and a wide smile with two perfect dimples. He radiated comfort and chill vibes. “I’m so sorry, did I scare you too much?”
“No, it’s- I’m okay. Not scared or anything.” I tried to play it off, but my face was as red as a tomato. I couldn’t even look at him. “So, uh-”
“Why is an ice cream truck around in the middle of the night?”
“Yes! How did you know?”
“It’s the first thing out of everyone’s mouths.” He winked. “I work for ‘Late Night Cravings’, and we only do business at the odd hours of the night.”
Jack produced a card from his sleeve, holding it out between two fingers. Like the call of a siren, it was irresistible. Within a second, I was right in front of the cooler, looking at the colorful rectangles of syrup and ice cream.
He placed the paper inside my outstretched wallet, replacing the sticky notes with it. I saw him open the cash register and throw them in, along with other strange knick knacks.
“The first one is always on the house.” He said and pulled out a vanilla bar on a stick. “This one is called Dine & Dash. It’s an… experimental flavor.”
He let the word roll around on split tongue, tapping his fingers impatiently on the table. I looked back at Max and Owen, both of them were nodding in encouragement.
It’s just some ice cream. Why am I hesitating?
I bit into it, teeth first. It was… well, it was definitely ice cream. It had a rich and thick flavor of vanilla that coated my entire tongue; I guessed it was the hand made gelato type, with vegan products and whatnot.
“Oh no, we don’t serve vegan or vegetarian products actually.” He answered. Had I asked a question?
“It’s really good.” I said. Still, it was rather disappointing. With the random things that had been happening since the truck first showed up, I was expecting something more… Lovecraftian. The ice cream was pretty tasty otherwise.
I sat between Owen and Max, who shoved the last piece of his cone into his mouth, chewing loudly. I bristled, biting my tongue not to scold him. It was not my place. For all I knew, all kids my age ate like that; I was simply too mature for my age. At least that’s what my mom always boasted about.
He got up and waited politely at the end of the line, right behind a small child of no discernable face or gender. Jack smiled down radiantly at him and was already looking for something on the side. I took another bite, watching.
“I have a special treat for my best customer so far, how about it?”
Max nodded vigorously, already a big roll of fives from his jacket pocket. My mouth dropped for a moment. Where did he get all that money from? He was eleven, maybe twelve years old. I didn’t actually know details about him, he’d hardly been outside since they moved in.
Mom tried speaking with his mother once, but was put down easy. I tried to recall what she’d said afterwards, coming home still holding the casserole. I remembered that it was a cheesy potato dish, but the actual conversation between my parents blurred.
Hadn’t she said that there were a lot of cameras around their porch? Something about dad not wanting me to be recorded… That was it.
I broke off a big piece, rolling the cold cream along my thoughts. Dad had said that the Max’s dad was out until dawn and he smelled strongly of liquor.
“He’s a bad egg. A gambler never wins at luck games.”
I never really got the concept of betting money on horses, but I suppose some things are meant for other people to mull over.
Max’s new ice cream was a swirly soft serve with little yellow flowers sprinkled on top. “It’ll help with that nasty bruise you have.”
He didn’t waste any time asking if the flowers were edible or not; his tongue licked a large stripe on the side of the cone and we all watched as the purple sack on his face faded away to a regular flesh color.
“What the- Did you see that?” Owen shot up to his feet, looking at them like… like they’d done something incredible and impossible.
I was stuck in place, mouth open. Only then did I realize that my own ice cream was still intact. It was still a perfectly frozen vanilla bar on a stick, untouched and not even close to melting on the summer night heat.
“Holy shit, it’s endless ice cream.”
“I’m afraid it’s not. We’re currently out of stock on that flavor.” Jack said, tearing of the wrapper of a paper packet with his pointy teeth. “It just has all the calories of a large breakfast, lunch and dinner. If you whisper what you want to eat, you might just get to eat it.”
Owen, who was rotating Max’s head around to see the damage, or more accurately the lack of, twisted around like we’d said his name. “You have to try it! Come on!”
“Okay! Okay! Just let me get myself together first!” I took a deep breath, uncertain of what to say. I had so many questions, but all their eyes were now on me and my skin broke out in a cold sweat.
First things first. Prove the ice cream is magic with my own eyes. Mouth. Tongue. “KFC spicy chicken.”
It burst like a popcorn kernel. One second it was a plain bar, the next, it looked like a manufacturing mistake covered in chocolate and grated nuts. It looked like the chicken wing version of the word ‘humanoid’. I’m not quite sure how to describe it.
“Oh Jesus. Okay. The moment of truth.”
It tasted strongly of frying oil, spices and fast food. It was warm, not too hot and felt more like a sauce you’d dip bread in, but it was absolutely delicious. “Oh my god- I would love some curly fries with this.”
*Pop*
“You try it, I swear it was exactly like KFC.” I handed the wavy rectangle to Owen, who stared at it with a look of pure awe.
He took of a piece with his hands, held it up at us for approval and popped it into his mouth. His jaw moved quickly, stopped, then his eyebrows shot so far up his forehead, they touched his hairline.
“On God, we’re going to Narnia. Or Lord of Rings. Or Harry Potter.”
“The books are called Lord of the Rings; the actual place is called Middle Earth.” Max corrected.
He was on his last few bits, a single flower left dangling on the side for its life. “Hey Max, why don’t you try it for yourself? What’s your favorite food?”
He excitingly rambled off, arguing with Owen about the superior version of short ribs. I had my own things to add to the conversation, but I ignored it in favor of taking a good look at the ice cream he’d handed over without a second thought.
It was speckled with blue glitter, maybe ice crystals and smelled faintly of a hospital and cotton candy. The arnica flower was slightly wilted, but looked innocent enough.
I regretted it the second it went into my mouth. Suddenly, it was no longer petals and a stem but a living, MOVING, thing. I tried to spit it out, but it came right in. In mid panic, I dropped the cone on the pavement. It splattered all over and started to bubble like it was boiling.
I bit it. It was surprisingly crunchy, but it died on the spot. A vile liquid soured my mouth, half bloody, half vermin. The tongue was completely numb, but my teeth felt sticky and raw.
I fanned my open mouth, breathing heavily. I tried to look for Jack, but the truck window was empty. Instead, he was right behind me, hand gently tapping the back of my neck.
“Pepsi?” He opened a chilled can, dripping water on his clawed fingers. They were long, with five joints instead of three and ended in sharp pointy nails painted a deep forest green. There was dried crusted blood hidden by a row of silver bracelets, dangling with little shiny charms.
I downed the whole thing in one go, not stopping to breathe even when I was close to drowning. The fizz burned the roof of my mouth, washing away the remains of what I’d just eaten. I tried not to think about how I’d just swallowed a bug.
“I should’ve warned you,” he whispered. He pushed the loose hair off my shoulders, wrapping a lock around his wrist. “If you’re not ill, then the ice cream won’t know what to do with itself.”
“What are you?” My voice was scratched and my heart was beating so hard against my ribs that it was going to explode.
“I’m just a simple ice cream truck driver.”
--- ---
I threw up anything I ate that day, no matter how hard I tried to keep it down. I wasn’t hungry or tired, but I was miserable in other ways. My body shook with excess energy, my legs bouncing like I needed a bathroom break every few minutes.
It was a horrible day to lose appetite. My parents went to the accounting firm’s Fourth of July lunch, (no kids allowed), so I got a rare treat to stay at home and watch all the Netflix I wanted.
I could’ve sat down in front of the TV and turned the volume to the sky, chugging down Monster cans and chips. Instead, I crossed the road to wake Max up and drag him all the way to Owen’s neighborhood.
His dad’s car made a U-turn when it saw us, the man himself waving wildly like a maniac. I didn’t need to be close enough to smell him to notice that he was under the influence of something.
Max leaned in the window, speaking in a hushed and hurried voice. He stole a glance or two at me, ashamed to be caught scolding his father like a child.
There wasn’t much to say until we were ringing the buzzer of Owen’s apartment building. “You don’t like him, do you?”
“Who? Owen? He’s my best friend.”
“Jack.”
I pursed my lips, pushing the door and leading him across the lobby. “Have you ever seen Once Upon A Time?”
“Hm? No.”
“It’s a TV show about fairytale characters stuck in the real world. Anyway, one of them, Rumpelstiltskin keeps rambling on about how all magic comes with a price. I think that’s true in our case too.”
“Yeah, but we paid.”
“But what are we really paying with? Sticky notes?”
The elevator chimed and slid its doors open, letting an old lady out. “Well, in the end of it, as long as the price is fair, it’s harmless right? He’s done nothing wrong!”
“Yet.”
---
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