We all scream for robbery. (file photo from our massive file of ice cream photos)
It's a Thursday, just like any other Thursday. I'm sitting in my office, trying to forget some dame who promised me a banana sundae and then split. Then this broad walks in with hair as red as strawberries. Tells me she's in trouble, but she's no squealer. I tell her I've been working the Iowa City beat a long time. I know trouble. She spills everything, like a kid drinking a milkshake without a lid. Seems there's an ice cream parlor, place they call Cold Stone Creamery. Only the only thing colder than the desserts they serve is the heart of one of their former employees. Guy by the name of Fudge. Conor Fudge. 25 years old and he's still jimmying open safes and stealing dough. And I don't mean cookie dough, either. It didn't add up. Why rob an ice cream parlor when you could rob a bank? Seems this Fudge character was lifting some of the cold stuff too, to sweeten the deal. How do you like that? A crumb stealing crumbs. Almost makes me lose my taste for chocolate. Pretty soon I had Fudge in bracelets, and a lemon sorbet in my hand. Case closed.
(by Shira Rachel Danan)