Mississippi Mud, Star Pop, Pot, Crack, Meth,...

So, I think the ice cream man in our neighborhood is actually a drug dealer. Why you might ask? Well, Today at 4:45 and 60 degrees I heard the at first fun, then very very very annoying canned music of "Pop Goes the Weasel" (which I kid you not, the dog across the street actually howled, like on the cartoons, at the sound of this song). This can only mean one thing, the ice cream man is coming.

Now, no matter how old I get, when I hear that song I am instantly transported to back 1992. Sweat pouring from my face as I was usually running the sun baked streets with no supervision. My first summers of freedom and my daily snow cone. I would always ask the balding, mustached icecream man for a green snow cone with lots of juice. His response was always "Here's one to give you a heart attack," or "This will make you a diabetic." Words which ring truth now, but at 12, merely greek. But with a smiling face and sticky hands I would exchange my measly dollar pilfered from my mom's purse and would continue the afternoon with an occasional brain freeze and charging sugar high. But at the first hint of sub-85 weather the ice cream man would disappear like free beer at a Fraternity party. Hidden away unit the sun returned to beat down on us again.

Now that I am 26 I have traded in my green snow cone for Ultra Light Beer and my sun baked pavement for the gym track, but the song rings true even now. So imagine my surprise when I meet the ice cream man of today. The first time I heard the melodious chorus, I dug through my worn wallet and found an extra dollar. Impatiently waiting for him to finish with the kids down the street, I waited at the end of my drive. What am I going to get? What will a dollar buy now? I hope he has snow cones. These were the thoughts running through my head. But when he pulled up and I noticed enough gold in his mouth for fort knoxx to be jealous, my childhood memories were replaced with my limited street smarts. I should have figured it out when I learned over half of the items he had pictured on his truck were "sold out," but I guess my naivete took over. I settled for a plain ice cream sandwich, that was gone by the time I entered my home. I thought noting of it, until November of last year hit. I was sitting in my home, working, as per usual, when I heard the song again. I was quite perplexed as I was wearing a long sleeve shirt and socks, but the cold climate apparently did not surpress this entrepreneurs inner drive. Then as the next few weeks and month rolled on, I realized I was hearing the Ice Cream man more in January and Feb than in the typical summer months. Then discussing this with my neighbor it all fell into place. What a great convenient way to sell drugs. You have the cleaver rouse of the Mr. Rogers type, only out to "make the kiddies happy." But, really your have your own drug delivery route. As a business plan I find it quite ingenious, as a human being and a resident, I wonder how founded my theories are and what I should do about it. I could be wrong, but the pieces are there...More trips during colder months then hot, always out of a majority of the popular goodies, stereotypical (very) idea of your friendly, neighborhood drug dealer. Yeah, I think I am on to something here. What's next, a prostitution ring masked as a paper route. Is there no more decency left. Damn you Britney Spears

Next week I will be dissecting on how my local bar is really a Mafia front. Stay tuned.