My heart is like an open highway
Like Frankie said, ‘I did it my way.
Jon Bon Jovi/Max Martin/Richey Sambora
At Tumbledown Café Anna always orders an extra-large Breakdown sundae topped with double Swiss chocolate sprinkles. Never sweetness served in a waffle cone or a paper cup. No, her desires have to melt into its own oblivion in a tall glass.
Not a Comedown or a Bringdown because she knows those are smoothies made with lime juice. Lime is something Anna just does not like. They say it is an acquired taste, like beer. Well, then she simply cannot be bothered.
At this place, her favourite café, the Meltdowns and Showdowns are different kinds of delicious ice cream sundaes. Not the rather depressing and slightly warlike words they sound to be.
They’re just creamy, sweet as fudge, red as strawberries and – the ones Anna chooses – heavy on chocolate. Always just a bit over the top, because that is exactly where the staff place the cherries. Fresh; not canned.
Anna would even more gladly, and pleasantly, taste their milkshake Shutdown or, according to the menu, the sweeter options Standdown, Letdown and Kountdown. The latter, which Anna firmly believes would soothe her immensely, spelled with a capital ‘K’ because, she has been told, the owner is a German fellow.
Her meandering journey might then continue with a touchdown (pun intended) at the new burger joint next door where she can have her favourite meal to go. The one with barbecue sauce and fried onion rings. It is called Bring-to-mind.
But for what it might be worth, take to heart, from now on Anna will consist only of artificial nonsense and sweet passion. Of nothing but ice cream, infused with an abundance of refined sugar and pure desire. She will not only be covered in but also drizzled with chocolate syrup and in full denial mode. Believe these words of mine: No pretentious worries or anxiety added. And no one, absolutely no one, will be able to resist her. Just like that.
Then screams my soul, my Ice Cream God to thee. How great thou art. How great thou art.
©SlowClapStories
Evigt ägs blott det du mist
Kapitel XXXII: Anna, then screams my soul, my Ice Cream God to thee
My heart is like an open highway
Like Frankie said, ‘I did it my way.
Jon Bon Jovi/Max Martin/Riche Sambora
At Tumbledown Café Anna always orders an extra-large Breakdown sundae topped with double Swiss chocolate sprinkles. Never sweetness served in a waffle cone or a paper cup. No, her desires have to melt into its own oblivion in a tall glass.
Not a Comedown or a Bringdown because she knows those are smoothies made with lime juice. Lime is something Anna just does not like. They say it is an acquired taste, like beer. Well, then she simply cannot be bothered.
At this place, her favourite café, the Meltdowns and Showdowns are different kinds of delicious ice cream sundaes. Not the rather depressing and slightly warlike words they sound to be.
They’re just creamy, sweet as fudge, red as strawberries and – the ones Anna chooses – heavy on chocolate. Always just a bit over the top, because that is exactly where the staff place the cherries. Fresh; not canned.
Anna would even more gladly, and pleasantly, taste their milkshake Shutdown or, according to the menu, the sweeter options Standdown, Letdown and Kountdown. The latter, which Anna firmly believes would soothe her immensely, spelled with a capital ‘K’ because, she has been told, the owner is a German fellow.
Her meandering journey might then continue with a touchdown (pun intended) at the new burger joint next door where she can have her favourite meal to go. The one with barbecue sauce and fried onion rings. It is called Bring-to-mind.
But for what it might be worth, take to heart, from now on Anna will consist only of artificial nonsense and sweet passion. Of nothing but ice cream, infused with an abundance of refined sugar and pure desire. She will not only be covered in but also drizzled with chocolate syrup and in full denial mode. Believe these words of mine: No pretentious worries or anxiety added. And no one, absolutely no one, will be able to resist her. Just like that.
Then screams my soul, my Ice Cream God to thee. How great thou art. How great thou art.
©SlowClapStories
Slow Clap Stories 