There once was a man. This man was worried about children. Children with bad mommies and daddies. This man was a scientist, a biochemist. But all day as he worked, he worried, There were children out there with bad mommies and daddies. If only his science could do something to help them.

“Stop daydreaming,” said Dr. Onus. “Get back to work. That tardigrade DNA isn’t going to sequence itself.” 

Can you say, “tardigrade”?

But the man couldn’t stop worrying. If he could stop even one child from being hurt, he would do just about anything. Because he knew what bad mommies and daddies were like. He knew very well. 

One day, when Dr. Onus wasn’t watching, the man took some of his work home with him. You see, he had an idea. The tardigrade was a very small creature, but it was very strong. Almost nothing could hurt a tardigrade. Not fire, not ice, not even radiation.

Can you say, “radiation”?

Dr. Onus never knew, but the man was very smart. Very, very smart. And he used what he learned about the tardigrade to create something. Something brand new. Something that could help children. Help keep them safe. Safe from everything, even bad mommies and daddies.

The next day he stayed home. He called Dr. Onus on the phone and said he was sick, but he wasn’t sick. He was inspired. He had created a serum. A potion, really. Something that would give children a little tardigrade DNA. 

Can you say, “inspired”?

He never went back to work. Instead, he took all the money he had and bought an ice cream van. He filled it with all the best ice creams. And he filled all the ice creams with his new serum. He would use his science to protect children from bad mommies and daddies. 

He knew it would work, because he had tested it. He had found a child, a child with a bad mommy and daddy, and taken him home to his lab in the basement, and given the child ice cream. The child had grown strong and maybe a little gray. The child was very, very safe from bad mommies and daddies. And even though the child bit the man, he didn’t shout, or hit the child. And when the experiment was over and he used the ether, he chuckled to himself about how he would be saving so many children from so many mommies and daddies. 

Can you say, “ether”?

On the first day with the new van, the man sold twenty ice creams. He tried to give them away at first, but suspicious mommies and daddies wouldn’t let their children have free ice creams. So he sold them for a nickel, and sold them and sold them, and the little children ate the ice creams.

If a mommy or daddy ate the ice cream, they became very sick. The ice cream was only for children. To keep them safe. And if they bit their mommies and daddies, well, that was okay, wasn’t it? Because after all, they were bad mommies and bad daddies. Every single one of them. They had it coming.

Can you say, “karma”?

And so the man – the Ice Cream Man – traveled in his special van selling his special ice creams, all over town. He laughed and jumped in pride over how much good he did. Proud, yes, like no one was ever proud of him. He was saving so many children, and so many bad mommies and daddies were getting what they deserved.

Some of the children were so smart, so special, they made games, once they turned gray and their teeth grew sharp. Mommy Piñata was a good game. They used sticks for that game, but other games used balls. Or knives. Or ropes.

Can you say, “piñata”?

The Ice Cream Man was very happy. Very, very happy. And he even visited the street where Dr. Onus lived, and made sure to sell some special ice cream to his daughter, a little girl named Alice. She was a very smart girl, and invented some very smart games with the neighborhood children. She even used some of Dr. Onus’s special doctor tools, and made pretty pictures with what came out of mommy and daddy. 

And they were safe. They were all safe. And the van rolled on and on, and the speaker tinkled “Turkey in the Straw” and “Für Elise” and the children laughed and laughed and laughed. And the Ice Cream Man decided that maybe children in other towns should be safe, too. 

Can you say, “spree”?