Last weekend Monica and I went to Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream. Yes, they actually have an ice cream parlor here in Charlotte! Expensive as hell, but the ice cream is a step above, so what can I say? We stood in line deciding what delicious flavor we wanted to try. Monica decided on some caramel chocolate flavor on a cone; I decided that, for the price, a pre-packed pint of Coffee Heath Bar Crunch would be the wisest decision (MMMMMMMM).

As we stood at the counter, I looked down and noticed a bowl of ice cream that had been spilled on the counter. “What the heck?” I thought, “This is such a nice place…you’d think these guys would stay on top of keeping it clean.” A big, gooey puddle of chocolate-vanilla swirl oozed off the side of an up-turned container, hugging the bottom of a plastic spoon, which sat in the middle of the mess like a lone island where the ants could play Survivor.

Then it all clicked. This was no mess; it was a trick. The ice cream was as plastic as the spoon and bowl. I was almost completely sure, but I had to test my theory; so I stuck my finger out and lightly touched the puddle. I was right, how funny. I picked the whole ensemble up by the bowl, puddle and all, and showed it to my wife as I giggled. She had suspected as much, but hadn’t checked herself. What a funny thing to do; what a funny joke to play.

As my wife paid for our treats, I looked around and saw another funny ensemble just to the right of the spill. It was a glistening bowl of barney-purple plastic ice cream in a bowl. A spoon stuck straight up out of it like a javelin. It was charmingly straight, but unconvincingly perfect; the puddle looked much more real. With a greater mode of confidence, I lunged my finger at the second sculpture, and poked it firmly in the side.

Wow…how funny. This one’s cold and mushy.

My next thought was how dangerous it was to place this fake puddle of spilled ice cream on the counter. A sharp fellow like me is going to see it, and then conclude the obvious: that every other bowl of ice cream sitting on this ice cream parlor counter must also be made of plastic as well (why would they not be?). Soon every scoop would have little bowling-ball holes in the side of it, as I checked the veraciousness of each and every one. What an unpleasant scenario. How could Ben and Jerry’s cause this to happen?

I had now had two very good jokes played on me, and one unfortunate joke had now been played on the young man who ordered the poked ice cream (there’s a yummy new flavor…again…MMMMMMMM). I looked up quickly to see if he had caught me with my hand in his desert. Persuaded that he hadn’t, I gave the luscious delight one last satisfying squeeze, then took my pint and fled.

Who the hell orders purple ice cream anyway?