I'd Like an Ice Cream Sundae With a Side of Muffin-top, Too

When Checkered and I were dating, we loved a little ma and pa ice cream place called the Dairy Maid. 



It was dirty, weathered, and crowded.  While we thought that all those elements were very nice,  what kept us coming back were the low prices and the big portions.  Oh yes.  I mean, truly gargantuan.


Then we got married, had babies, and thought we should live a little more highbrow, so off the Dairy Queen we went.  "Higher prices, smaller portions."  I think that's their motto.

Anyway, a few weeks ago we went to a graduation party at a hall fortuitously enough, right across the street from the Dairy MaidWe started to reminisce about the good old days.  We laughed.  We cried.  We hugged. And it wasn't but a few nights later, we packed all the kids up and rendezvoused at our old haunt.

Now there are 6 Flag family members having a passionate affair with the Dairy Maid.  We all have our favorites.  Checkered likes their upside down banana split.  The youngest likes something called the Super Bowl (because it comes with an American Flag toothpick.) And so it goes.



But the last couple of Friday nights we've been there, I've noticed a disturbing trend.  I noticed some skinnies there.  They arrive -- not in a car like normal people -- but on foot.  And they walk really fast.  And they pace while they order.  And what do you suppose they order?  No Super Bowls for them, baby.  No.  They order a thimble full of ice cream and then rev up their feet and walk 200 miles out of their way to go home. 

I don't love those people.  They are giving the Dairy Maid a bad, bad name.  And it hurts me to see them so healthy, so vital, so disciplined.  Don't they know better?




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