Dairy Queen sundaes
were George’s favorite as
an innocent boy.

But his innocence
was disrupted by Butch, the
neighborhood bully.

Lunch money stolen,
wedgies, teasing, pranks (this was
the old school era).

But the worst of all,
each time George indulged in a
sundae, Butch destroyed.

Knocked right out of his
hands, sundae splattered on the
sidewalk. Then, Butch sneered.

This happened until
George became of age and moved
away to college.

Since then, George has had
severe PSTD- the
ice cream sundae kind.

He dreams of sundaes
a lot though. Like today. It’s
95 degrees.

George hops on local
bike share bicycle. Treks to
community pool.

There will no doubt be
abundance of loud kids but
pool temp is ice cold.

His usual route
is closed for construction so
he takes a detour.

A detour that takes
him right by a Dairy Queen.
George hallucinates.

Flashbacks as strong as
LSD’s, he sees visions.
Cherry topped sundaes.

Smashed on the sidewalk.
He shakes his head in terror.
He wants to escape.

Yet, salivary
glands are aroused, dancing and
shouting “Oh hell yes!”

With no control of
his own body, he docks his
bike and walks inside.

The air-conditioned
chill of the air causes goose
bumps to spread his skin.

Or is it the sound
of the soft-serve machine? He
orders and is served.

Wouldn’t you know, there
waiting outside stands Butch with
his son, Butch Jr.

Butch Sr. now sports
a potbelly and gray hair.
But the sneer remains.

Butch Jr. pesters
another kid eating an
Oreo Blizzard.

Like father, like son.
Heart racing, George pretends not
to see and moves on.

But like a lion
sniffing out prey, Butch pursues.
George quickens his steps.

As George approaches
the bike stand, Butch knocks sundae
out of his hands. Hard.

Before the shame has
a chance to kick in, George sees
poetic justice.

The dad of the kid
Butch Jr. is bullying,
has now had enough.

Butch Sr. is caught
off guard by a round house kick
to the jugular.