Damn Kids

"I cannot begin to wonder what pistachio ice cream tastes like," she said. Julie was a large woman, 7'3'' tall, and at 300 pounds, she had a healthy BMI. She had done well in life, from getting kittens out of trees for little old men, to pulling those trees out by the root during Christmas season (brute strength is sometimes quicker than a saw). Most men found her an absolute stunner, but she wasn't interested. She liked one thing. One thing only. Ice cream. She had picked up a tub, you know, the kind you see at the ice cream parlor, and stared at the green nutty ice cream. It looked like a pint would in your or my hand. So, she bought the tub out of pure curiosity, and put it in a reusable bag (because she was one of the few who gave a damn out the environment thank-you-very-much). As she walked home, she rescued a 2 month old baby and its 7 brothers and sisters from a third story of a burning building, which was sort of old hat to her at this point. She was a super hero most days, without the cape. Man-of-steel she wasn't, though one day she did pop the top off a New York gangster like one might open a bottle of IBC root beer. In her defense, he had been trying to steel her purse. Aaaaaanyway, Julie gets home and realizes the damn ICE CREAM HAD MELTED WHEN SHE SAVED THOSE DAMN KIDS! Some days just suck, she thought.