March 13, 2006
An open letter to Mister Softee
Dear Mister Softee,
It's only March 13th and the not so delicate sounds of your ice cream truck are wafting out my window. I first saw you at approximately 6:21 this evening, as I walked quietly up my front steps. This can't be, I thought to myself, looking up at the third floor window where I happily reside. It's too soon, I felt my heart fill with panic. Not yet. How could this be happening? As thought's of horrible things that could happen to a Mister Softee, not unlike yourself, scurried through my brain, I scurried up the steps. I had to share the bad news.
Think about it. You could be savagely attacked by a gang of rabid chocoholics. Or, a child over hyped on sugar, could take a bite out of your arm, mistaking it for one of those yummy sugar cones. Maybe some neighborhood gang will try to make you a member, and then you'll have to scurry away before they initiate you, and since you'll have to leave quietly, there's no way you can play that godforsaken music.
It's not ice cream season, although apparently it is. How? What? When? Why did this happen? Should I blame it on global warming? I mean there is no rhyme or reason for the unseasonably warm weather New Yorkers are feeling this early in March, so could it be, that they let you go from park to drive a tad bit earlier this year? Is that what's happened to you Mister Softee? Has winter been so hard? Hard..hmm..that reminds me, Mister Softee, how did you get that name? Does it have something to do with your performance outside of the truck? If so, I can refer you to some excellent materials.
Let me ask you this, what exactly is that ideal temperature for a Mister Softee? What average temperature allows you to don your ice cream cone cap and red bowtie? How do you get children who haven't thought about you all winter creaming for ice? Funny thing is, winter isn't over yet. So why are you selling ice cream in the winter? I know it's warm here, but that doesn't mean you should be out yet. I guess there's something about 60 degree weather that makes Mr. Softee break out of his winter ho hum and shine like the superstar that the neighborhood children make him believe that he is. Is that it Mister Softee? Do you like being the center of attention? What is it that makes you tick?
Speaking of ticks, what's up with the damn music? I mean, I know it gets the attention of the neighborhood yokels, but for those of us who don't scream for ice cream, it's unfair to have to hear it. It's not cool that it sticks in our heads, pours through our walls and windows and continues until the sun goes down. I don't care how happy you make the neighborhood children who yearn for your sweets, you're not making me happy.
So drop the music Mister Softee. Drop it NOW.