Poor Ice Cream

It was a warm summer afternoon and I had decided to make myself an ice cream sundae. I was in the middle of putting my sundae together when Mom called me from the living room. She needed help moving some furniture so she could vacuum. While I was in the middle of helping her move our heavy sofa away from the wall, we heard a scream coming from the kitchen.

Before Mom or I could find out what was going on, my little sister came into the living room with my bowl of ice cream and tears trailing down her face.

"I'm sorry," she said, "but someone killed your ice cream!"

I looked at her, and then at the bowl of ice cream and started to laugh. Right before Mom called for my help I had poured some cherry flavored syrup on top of the ice cream. By now it had frozen and looked like the ice cream was oozing blood.

I wrapped my arms around my little sister and said, "Don't cry, peanut, it's not dead. It's just cherry syrup." I then grabbed my spoon and took a small bite of the 'blood' covered ice cream to show her that it was okay, then I offered her a bite. She tentatively smelled the ice cream and then finally put the spoonful into her mouth. She spent the next minute or so tasting it before she swallowed.

"Mmm, it's good!" she said, and all I could do was laugh at my silly little sister.



Word Count: 257