The Chunky Monkey Stabbing - a Halloween Story

I was sitting on the front porch when you drove by and I waved, thinking about a woman I got to know as we both waited to be called for our medical procedures. She turned to me and said “My father likes your stories --- you look something like him.” Quite an opening for a woman who appears to be close to my age. Then she said “I got a funny story for you.”

People do this a lot, as if they believe they are giving me a gift, and I guess they are, but like most freebies in life, few are any good. I gave her my most polite smile and resigned to listen.

“I bought some Chunky Monkey ice cream last week after work. You know how sometimes you’re driving home and you gotta have some Chunky Monkey, real bad, so you pull off the interstate right into a supermarket, run in, and buy some?” she asked.

I nodded but I’ve never done that. I have cravings but not enough to cut across three lanes of 5 o’clock traffic to satisfy it.

“So, I get home, put it in the freezer, my phone rings, it’s my brother, and I forgot about it. I guess when I bought it and got home, I was done. Later, I wake up in the middle of the night, you know how you wake up at night and you’ve got to have a bowl of ice cream or maybe some cornflakes?”

“Oh, yeah” I said, but again I had no idea what she was talking about.

Most Americans do not go to bed hungry, and the thought of popping out of a dead sleep to walk through the kitchen like a zombie for a bowl of anything is beyond me.

But things like that happened once in America. “Dagwood” was a famous comic strip in the 1950’s through the 70’s that featured a skinny guy that ate giant multi-layered sandwiches as a midnight snack. But that was in an America that had once known hunger. Today we consider a monstrous Dagwood food-tower to be normal. But why judge? The lady gets hungry.

“I fixed me a bowl of Chunky Monkey with chocolate syrup and took it to bed with me. Next thing I know it’s morning and my ear is stuck to the pillow and my hair is matted. I sit up and see the bed and my arms are covered in blood. I’m thinking I’ve been stabbed! Am I like, dead?”

“Wow!”

“Yeah, I know. I’m freaking out, then I see the overturned bowl on the bed. And now the funny part,” she said.

Lots of people say that too when they realize the story is not as funny in telling it as they thought. This one was not funny but now I’m totally into it.

“Apparently, I took one bite, then fell asleep with a full bowl. You know how chocolate looks when it dries, especially in dim light, it turns a weird brown, like dried blood?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it looked just like that. Now, here’s the thing --- I took pictures of me covered in “blood” with wild matted hair and texted them to my daughter. Immediately my phone starts ringing! I answered and told her to relax, that her momma scored with a bowl of Chunky Monkey and it was the best night I’ve had in years!” She chuckled, “Now, that’s funny, right?”

I laughed. “Ok, that is funny.”

And I meant it.

I liked her style. She was sincere and she was enjoying herself. She’d worked hard all her life, yet had a great attitude. She never mentioned a husband.

Anyway, I thought this a nice story with “blood,” laughs, and a surprise ending. In a world gone mad, it occurred to me that we could all use a Halloween story about ice cream.

It’s deliciously funny. Right?