Orange penciled yummy dummies drinking cream soda on the edge of a pool with sunny honey. Yes! Telling stories of jumping in and out of a melting raspberry igloo. Woah, it’s chilly in here. Kachoo! “Haha!” Said the jelly belly with its bright-red fire engine helmet and sloshy boots. “I zee zi creamsicles playing hokey pokey in the puddles of sweet, tarty raspberry sauce. But where is zi music?”
“Wha?” you don’t hear it? say the orange creamsicles, gyrating in unison. I heard no melody, no hum, no beat, or singing. Ahhh. Mr. Resonance, he shakes and vibrates all that is around him, the air, the ground, the body, and even… the walls. No, we don’t want Mr. Resonance to compromise the integrity of the raspberry igloo walls. We must shake our hips, our bodies with, shhhhh! quiet ecstacy of dreamy delight! Splash the berry tart sauce. Shake, shake shake… your bootay! But don’t tickle the melting ice blocks of this raspberry discoteque. Jelly, Fire Marshall, Belly, bewildered and concerned, is not sure what to do to with this group, reveling in silence. The occupancy limit was not yet reached, but he was called here because of concerns regarding the structural integrity of this melting joint. Ah! Who cares? Creamsicles were enjoying it more and more as more the spitter-splatter of raspberry sauce falling down increased with their dancing vigor. It’s raining raspberries!
Ah, the memories! Sipping their new-found delight, pineapple cream sodas, under the canopy of palm trees, the Creamsicles bask in their tropical hammocks, planning their next bedlam of ecstacy.
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