I was starving for real food. Like a pancake or a chocolate chip cookie even. Of course in the seemingly never ending torture that was my life, I was told I could have a pancake, but they would be made of meal worms. EW! How 'bout I kill your pet turkey & eat that, I know how.
I was terrified of everything they fed me. I sniffed ALL my food very carefully. I looked to see if it had eyes or if it squirmed. I would stare at long lengths. Unless I saw it cooked in a frying pan myself with no weird ingredients I was not swallowing it. I mastered chewing my food and spitting it into anything that would hold it, feeding it to the pigs later on. For all I knew they could've been eating their own. I could've started an epidemic...Mad Piglet Disease.
There was an ice cream man that would cross over the bridge by the river. (You know the river...where my future demise would take place) I wanted this ice cream. How bad could it be? Can you really screw up ice cream? I should've known better.
I made my older cousin take me to the bridge because I knew the ice cream man would circle around ringing his little bell over and over. Im gonna get me some ice cream! <<steals more change & runs>>
Here I am thinking I am going to get some strawberry, chocolate or vanilla. NOPE. No Breyers within an 8500 miles radius. I would have settled for Pathmarks no frills brand at this point. The only flavor this ice cream man had was "UBE". Let me give you a little run down on what Ube is. Plain and simple it's a yam. Not just any yam. This yam's bright purple, like Grimace from Mcdonalds. What does it taste like? A freakin' raw potato. What kind of ice cream was I getting? Bright purple yam ice cream that tasted like a root vegetable. There were no sprinkles from this ice cream man. No cherry dipped cones either. This was clearly not Carvel.
I had brought plenty of change so I made my cousin keep buying me more purple ice cream. It was terrible, but I was sure it wasn't cooked on a dung oven and it tasted better than beady eyed shrimp heads on a stick. When my cousin told me she was out of change, I whipped out all the change I had hidden in my pockets. HA HA HA...
Did I mention that I was Lactose Intolerant and only supposed to have goats or soy milk? Purple yam ice cream and my digestive track do not play well together and there was no stopping them. I will never forget being bellied over in pain from the stomach cramps. Way before there were Skittles, I was already shitting a rainbow of color. Uhhh. It was purple and it was in my pants.
See you next time on "Inside the FLIP Side" ;)