Ice cream song and dance

And now, my ode to Maggie Moo's:

There once was a lady named Moo
Whose sweet shoppe was always a zoo
We lined up day and night
Queuing up for a bite
Of her fabulous ice creamy goo

First the toppings would come into view
And the folks in line knew it was true
Resistance was futile
This freezer was brutal
So many fab flavors from which to choose!

Chocolate and cherry,
Cool mint and mooberry,
Cheesecake and fresh minty moo
Chocolate raspberry,
Banana-strawberry,
And who could pass up Cinnamoo?

And let's not forget Ms. Moo's crew
They always knew just what to do
To move peeps along
Why, they burst into song!
So the true ice cream buffs could get through

"Welcome to Maggie's," they'd coo
"We're thrilled to be here to serve you!"
And they scooped the sweet slop
As they bopped and hip-hopped
Till the customers all went, "Woo hoo!"

So, um, guess what I ate tonight. That's right: ICE CREAM! Despite my better judgment. Despite my dinner-full belly. When I heard the words, "Let's get ice cream," I could not say no.

Truly, I didn't need ice cream tonight. "But when does anyone ever need ice cream?" you might ask. Trust me. There are times when one needs ice cream. When one cannot go another minute without ice cream. These times include, but are not limited to:

• Hot days
• The days before, during and after thunderstorms
• Happy days
• Sad days
• Nights of trash TV watching
• Nights of high-quality, artsy-fartsy foreign film watching
• Free-cone days
• Overpriced-cone days
• Birthdays
• Federal holidays
• Employee-appreciation days
• Days of wine and roses
• The days of our lives

Tonight, initially, was not one of those needy nights, despite the warm swirling of wind outside my window, blustery clarion call of the imminent thunderstorms. No, tonight, my belly was full of fish-and-veggie stir fry, and I had every intention of going to bed without consuming another bite.

But then came the siren--carried on the winds, above the slumbering cicadas, over the rooftops, between the trees, and through my open back door: "Moooooooo... Moo-Moo-Moooooooo…"

Such a cruel temptress, Maggie is, with her black and white blotches everywhere, never letting you forget that by succumbing to her moo-jo, you are, in fact, inching that much closer to resembling one of those bovines on the wall. And yet, you do not care. She casts a spell, this hussy of a heifer. She clouds your judgment, holds you in thrall, seduces you with promises of butter pecan and udderly cream and chocolate banana and pistachio--always with the pistachio! Damn her.

So I pulled on my jeans and flip-flops and walked the five blocks. Because I am weak. Because I knew that if someone else were to walk in the door with Maggie Moo's ice cream, and I did not have my own, I would be completely, royally pissed. And jealousy is such an ugly thing.

Ugly = bad. Ice cream = good. Not a tough decision.

When we got there, I seriously considered being as good as possible. I eyed the raspberry sorbet. The nonfat vanilla and chocolate. "I could get the nonfat ice cream but have them mix in the peanut butter cups, so at least I'd fulfill my craving for sinful sweets without falling completely off the wagon," I thought.

Ha.

I decided to order the cheesecake ice cream with Oreo cookie chunks mixed in. Full throttle, bay-bay! And so happy with my choice was I that I began to bounce in place. Full-on bounce, to the hip-hop, while standing in line, with a full herd of drooling ice cream cravers behind me.

Even better: Once I began bouncing, the guy behind the counter serving me recognized me! He knew I'd been to Maggie's over the weekend, recalled serving me then (mint ice cream with York Peppermint Patty), remembered that when he said from behind the freezer, "Who wants to dance with me?" I said, "I'll dance with you!" And proceeded to do a little shimmy-shake in his general direction, both of us protected from each other by the case of yummy treasures.

He remembered the dancing. The ice cream guy! Darryl is his name. Now, Darryl and I are best ice cream friends. Every time I go back to Maggie Moo's, I will look for Darryl, and when I see him, I will shimmy-shake my booty. And that will be our secret signal of true ice cream amity.

Does this make me a Maggie Moo's regular? If so, one of my highest purposes in life has been fulfilled. Which means one thing: I deserve to celebrate with ... MORE ice cream.

Comments

[Greg]

Yum, ice cream. The antidote for boredom, depression, and world strife. Back too long to say how long, there was an ice cream place in Davis Square in Somerville, MA: Steve's. I can remember going there and standing in line for a half hour with shiny happy people, all that way because of the anticipation of a just dessert. Mine was hot fudge sundae with chocolate ice cream and real whipped cream topping. Mmmmmmm.

[Mike]

This is fabulous!

[alicia`]

wah wah wah, i am the wah wah man

[Moira]

You didn't mention how incredibly expensive Maggie Moo's is. You practically have to mortgage your home for a scoop.