Ice Cream

 
I am a servitor called Vanilla. Could it be said that Janetta made me? She took me from my source in dust and fluff that gathers around the bases of chair legs and fed me through a convocation of ice cream symbolism, a storm of cones and wafers. Along the way there were many jokes: I dropped YOUR ice cream, I dropped your brain, I bind you to this whirling candy floss machine.

Janetta is whimsical. She has elfin looks and a childlike simplicity- that’s why she based me on ice cream. But I am looking forward to growing up, because life must always move forward. We must evolve, as the cornet diminishes through being licked and is reborn as something new. Raspberry ripples go through me and through Janetta, for we are united.

 

 

Ice cream

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