Page 29 of Devilish Debt
But again.
Where’s the fun in dipping a toe in the water when your ass can cannonball in?!
“Can’t believe you like Weezer,” he gushes, on a slam on the jeep door closed.
“Can’t believe you know who Weezer is,” I mirthfully jeer in return after motioning my head the direction of the shop we’re gonna hit up.
“My music tastes are the total opposite of streaming ones.”
“Meaning?”
“All over the place.”
“How all over the place?”
“I like Dolly Parton.”
“Everyone likes Queen Dolly Parton.”
“Hozier.”
“He’s hard not to like.”
“Noah Kahan.”
“Now you’re giving me one vibe.”
“Prince.”
“And we’re back to Dolly Parton territory.”
“Kendrick Lamar.”
“He’s like the modern rap versionofPrince.”
All of a sudden, he barks, “Cross Canadian Ragweed!”
“Okay,” I unexpectedly concede, “that one is definitely not like the others.”
A round of small snickers is exchanged on our way into Sand Sational, the best ice cream shop on this stretch of the Texas coast.While we both get single scoop cones, our particular flavors are miles apart, further showcasing – in a strange way – the type of individuals we are.
I’ve learned so much shit traveling the world.
How people talk.
How people lie.
How people will confess the truth without realizing.
And one way they do that?
Through frozen dessert.
“Fun fact,” I begin at the same time we park ourselves on the nearest outdoor bench, “ice cream can tell me a lot about a person.”
He casually extends one arm along the backside of the furniture and enjoys his first lick.“Like?”
“Your willingness to be face first in a hot pink treat while sporting a very loud leopard print shirt says to me that you givezerofucks about what the general population thinks of you.”
