300 Days of Writing
Day 38 Ice Cream:
The future is ice cream the advert read. She could see the billboard from her bed if she laid on her right side, her elbow tucked beneath her ear, making the sounds of traffic and people a little more muffled.
The billboard showed a huge mouth with straight white teeth, red lips, and a creamy complexion. She supposed the mouth was supposed to be smiling—that open mouth grin in anticipation for the scoop of ice cream that dangled from a nearby spoon, but to her, the mouth was leering at her.
Leering and laughing. She put a pillow over her other ear to stop the voices coming in.
They had put up the Häagen-Dazs advert one month ago. She had watched, with a tub of ice cream warming between her bare thighs as the men rolled the massive slabs of paper across its surface, like a piece of taffy being stretched.
She was sucking on a metal spoon when she finally realized what the sign was promoting—the very same ice cream she was eating. The very same tub that was cooling her legs as she sat in her underwear watching the men work. The very same tub she had bought from the store, on impulse she thought at first, but now she tossed it at her window trying to rid herself of its influence.
The cream splattered the glass and trailed down in thick globs. When she finally got around to cleaning it, weeks later, the hardened cream smeared and smothered her hands in sugar.
Now, there was still a faint residue of it in the corners. She hated the advert and the ice cream, and what it really meant.
Сайхан Бичээрэй!
H