Neapolitan Ice Cream
Who in the hell do you think you are? You’ve haunted kids’ birthday parties since forever, with your three flavors neatly manicured into rectangular slabs of spoon-bending, tooth-shattering evil. Look, just because you show up neatly dressed and well put together does not make you adorable, delicious or desirable.
Remind me: what’s good about this again?
First of all, I’ll inevitably open your container three months after your initial appearance and find, to no one’s surprise, that chocolate and strawberry have taken a hike. What does this mean? That I’m stuck with vanilla. Vanilla?! I mean, think about it. The word alone is used to describe all things boring and nondescript, and yet there you are, “Neapolitan” ice cream, sans your two best flavors.
Second of all, I’m an adult. If I want strawberry ice cream, I’ll buy a whole tub of that shit and let chocolate and vanilla go by the wayside. If I’m looking to combine my flavors, I’ll do so the proper way and pick up a gallon of Rocky Road, Chocolate Peanut Butter Cup, or some other cockamamie mixture of frozen goodness. How dare you assume that the three of you are equally delightful and should be enjoyed individually and jointly all at once! The balls on you, Neapolitan.
And for the record, do you really believe that just because you’ve so nicely split yourself into sections I can’t taste one flavor while eating another? If your container was an apartment and you three flavors were roommates, do you not think you come together to form a collective stink in the living room? Sure, I might take a bite of chocolate, but I get hints of strawberry in every bite. What’s the point? Again, if I wanted to taste strawberry I would’ve bought a pint of that shit from jump!
Finally, Neapolitan Ice Cream, if you insist on taking up valuable space in the freezer section of my local grocer, do me a favor before the next time some pimple-faced stockboy loads you onto the shelves: go check out an episode of Extreme Makeover. Or Queer Eye. Or any other goddamn transformation-based program. Why? It’s called updating.
“We’ll bleach the shit out of that asshole, Ice Cream!”
Look, you’ve been around since the 19th Century, and yet you still insist on vanilla, chocolate and strawberry? Why? What simpleton is still clamoring for the three of you to share time because he can’t make up his mind as to which flavor best accompanies his birthday cake? Again, if he wants chocolate, he’ll buy chocolate. But if you insist on sticking around, Neapolitan, here’s an idea: coffee, pistachio, and cherry. Peach, caramel, and old shoe. Anything. Sure, the three of them might not work together under your lid, but at least it’s a change of pace. Please, find yourself a nice PR team to come in there, re-establish your brand, and put you back on the market in a sleek, shape-fitting package. Something flattering, sexy, yet not so revealing we can see your bulge.
That’s it for “N.” Until next time, have at it, you vultures!
* Thanks to B. for the suggestion.