Call me Ishmael. I know it's weird, but I don't like to use my real name in Baskin Robbins. You never know who might be following you when you get the hankering to order one of those 31 flavors. Seriously though, my parents were children of the sixties, and, true to their subculture, they had named me Baskin Robbins as a way to stick it to their middle class upbringing which they perceived as dominated by materialism and greed. It was such an exercise in self-loathing, but even with a mouth full of shame and dairy, I had to admit, no one, I mean NO ONE does a "Dirty Dog Doozie" ice cream cake like BR. Which is why that was the name of the first song that I wrote: Dirty Dog Doozie. Well, the first #1 song I wrote anyway. The 'Dirty Dog Doozie' topped the charts for 12 straight weeks and inspired a rather risqué dance that required super natural balance and coordination. A type of coordination that most people don't have, unfortunately. Even after all this time, I still get notifications from my lawyer of potential impending litigation. The years of litigation has taken a toll on my finances, so I live alone in studio apartment on the outskirts of town that costs $35 each week and sup on two boiled hotdogs and a glass of water each night. Except Thursdays. Thursdays I live it up. That's why I'm in Baskin Robbins. That and the robbery I'm going to commit later. "Hey Laura. How you been? Why don't you get me a slice know what...a DOUBLE slice of that triple D cake. Today's gonna be a good day." "Coming right up, Ishmael! A double slice, that's going to keep you going all day and all night," she replied. "You have no idea." "Oh, you're so silly Ishmael," she flirted, which normally I'd be, since she is my secret 31 Flavors crush, but she caught me on the wrong night, in the wrong life. And I was wearing the wrong pants. "Holy Cat Ass!" I thought to myself as I looked down at my 50 inch JNCO jeans. I couldn't wear these pants on a robbery. No flexibility. No give. Dammit! I had to do that job tonight and the window of opportunity was closing fast. As I took my first bite of that ice cream cake, my mind started calculating fast. I should call Dan. He'll know what to do. Unless he's tripping. If he's tripping, I'm shit out of luck. But it's Thursday and he doesn't usually trip on Thursdays, so I should be alright. I dig up some quarters from the depths of my pockets and walk over to the payphone. It's covered in dust and grease. A long forgotten remnant of the past.
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