It was the 50s, the world was decorated in playful pastels
Baby blue, soft pink, yellow like a newborn chick
The ice cream man loved to visit our tiny neighborhood every Sunday
He blasted his silly little jingle through a microphone
As he drove through the streets handing kids their ice cream
It was a convenient distraction for my mom, little sister and I
For every weekend we would also wait for our dad to return from war
I remember the certain day very vividly
It was a day I could never ever forget
It was a cool afternoon, and the truck rounded the corner exactly on time
We, similar to other kids on our street, were already waiting
The stranger behind the window gave us a little wave and tooted the horn
This wasn’t the guy I remembered from all the times previous
My sister gave me a side look, but all I did was shrug back
It was all ice cream, right? It doesn’t really matter who gives it to us
She took my hand as we crossed the empty street, and stood in line
Kids happily strutted away from the truck,
They all had grins on their faces, as their ice creams dripped everywhere
We made it to the front of the line, and I timidly handed the guy two quarters
He took them with a small, creepy smile, and asked what we would want
We ordered soft serves, with strawberry sauce, like we always did
He handed me a nickel back and tipped his hat with a nod
He then called up the next person
I finally noticed something was off with his voice
It sounded scratchy and high pitch, like a broken record
I shivered as we ambled away
I licked my ice cream thoughtfully, my mind wandering to the creepy man
The sauce tasted strangely metallic, and my sister already started to complain
I explained to her that the bottle it came from must have been a bad batch
Looking back on it all now, I feel stupid now
I can’t believe that I didn’t realize it all sooner
For when we returned home to our mother
She had panicked, screaming her head off
She knew at once that the strawberry sauce
Was not strawberry sauce at all
It was blood
The ice cream man who had served us that faithful Sunday
Well he was never seen again
And from that day onward we would shut our doors tight and draw our blinds
Whenever we heard that jingle
