As the sun beat down on his bare, brown back, Little Jimmy knew that he was hungry for ice cream. His backyard swimming pool had offered a good deal of entertainment, but even that could not rival his affections for a truly succulent ice cream, in particular his favorite flavor - Peachy Penguin. For Jimmy, Peachy Penguin transcended the taste-bud tantalizing world of flavors that was ice cream. He didn't know if it was the soft, orange sorbet in his mouth, or the little peachy penguin gummies and their cream filled bellies that dotted the ice cream like flecks of sunlight along a shady trail, but he knew that he would give anything for that ice cream. The cool water against his back was no longer entertaining or soothing or pleasing in any way. The only thing in the entire world that could please him at that moment was Peachy Penguin ice cream.

Jimmy knew that he had only just run out of Peachy Penguin that morning, having eaten an entire 1/2 gallon container with breakfast, even though his mother told him not too. But there was something about Peachy Penguin he just couldn't resist. His parents had often caught him sneaking down to the freezer at night, prying open the mystical door with his eager hands, looking inside for that satisfying, orange sorbet. And even if they didn't catch him in the act, a tell-tale empty tub of Peachy Penguin ice cream would always be lying forlornly on the floor after a night of feasting. Jimmy's parents didn't know what to do, but since they never made up their minds to some definate course of action, the grocery bill was always the same, with at least ten entries for "PCHY PNGN - $5.00" on the receipt. Every Tuesday morning the garbage man would collect two large bags of trash, with a small bag beside them. Of the two large bags, one contained all of the family's trash and the other all the empty cartons of Peachy Penguin. The third, small bag had hundreds of used Tums capsules and quite a few disposable, plastic spoons.

But Jimmy didn't really care about what his parents thought, or what his doctor thought, or even what his teacher at school thought, who had often seen Jimmy skip class to go to the bathroom and gorge on a hidden stash of Peachy Penguin. No, all Jimmy cared about was the soft, icy taste of a hundred penguins bathing in orange sorbet, their peachy heads massaging his tongue and their creamy bellies exploding joyfully inside his longing mouth. Jimmy got out of the water, he didn't even know why he had gone in the pool, it seemed to him a waste of a good back yard, a back yard which could have been been turned into a giant freezer with a never-ending quanity of Peachy Penguin. Jimmy decided he might go inside and see if there was any Peachy Penguin left on the bottom of his last carton, but no sooner had he reached his backdoor, a temptingly melodious tune creeped into his ears. He had never heard such a tune in his neighborhood before, but he had seen enough Peachy Penguin commercials on the T.V. to know what it was.

Jimmy frantically raced through the house, dashing past his mother who had been cleaning a congealed mess of orange sorbet from the kitchen table, and flew through his front door and out into the street. His dream had been realized. Coming down the street at a leisurely pace was a pearly white ice cream truck, it's orange roof glistening in the early sun. It continued to sing the same, beautiful tune that had drawn Little Jimmy from his backyard like a Siren would a sailor. Jimmy's longing gaze faltered for a moment, and suddenly his greedy eyes scanned the next door houses, as if daring another child to enter the street through their doors. But Jimmy saw no one and nothing, not so much as a child playing in the sprinklers or a middle-age man mowing his long-left uncut lawn. All Jimmy saw was a dreamy, white ice cream truck coming slowly towards him. The truck was destined for him, Jimmy knew it. He knew that the truck had driven many miles to see ice cream's most avid indulger, and he desperately wanted to be certain that he was to be the only indulger, avid or otherwise, that would ever see an ice cream pass through that truck's window.

It seemed like an eternity had passed before the meandering truck finally arrived at Jimmy's driveway, but when it did he was beside its sticker-covered window before the ice cream man had a chance to turn off the purring engine and the alluring melody. Jimmy's eyes gazed intently into the window as it slowly rolled down. The ice cream man poked his, long, narrow face carefully through the window, squinting a bit at the sun, and had barely opened his mouth before he was cut off -

"I want a Peachy Penguin."

"I'm sorry little boy, we're all out of Peachy Penguin," he said calmly, almost cruelly.

"But I want Peachy Penguin."

"Could I interest you in some Banana Baboon? The baboons are filled with such riiiiich caramel."

"No, I only want Peachy Penguin! I don't want anything else! I just want Peachy Penguin!!!"

The man sighed thoughtfully, stared at Jimmy's house for a moment, and then said "Well, I might have one last cone in the back? Will a cone do?"

Jimmy thought carefully about this. He had never had a cone before, in fact he had never even seen a commercial on T.V. for a Peachy Penguin cone.

"Is it still Peachy Penguin. Does it still have gummy peach-flavored, cream-filled, penguin-covered orange sorbet ice cream?

"Down to the last detail," answered the man, his left eye twitching slightly for a moment.

"THEN GIVE IT TO ME!"

"Just a moment, I'll go have a look." The man retreated into the back of his truck. Jimmy waited impatiently for several seconds, until the man returned, sticked his head out the window once more and said, "That will be $1.99." His right hand was extended to Jimmy for money, and his left stayed within the truck, holding a golden-wrappered cone of what HAD to be Peachy Penguin.

Jimmy suddenly realized that he had no money in his swimming trunks, and if he wnt into the house, the truck might leave. He looked up defiantly at the ice cream man, and said, "I don't have any money, but I'll take the cone anyway."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," said the ice cream man calmly, this time a little more cruelly.

But Little Jimmy was adamant. Refusing to move and shouting at the ice cream man. The man, looking at the house again then back at Jimmy, finally suggested, "How about this? You come into the back of the truck, and I'll give you the ice cream...." He paused, looked around, and whisperd, "I can't let just anyone see me give you an ice ceam for free, now, can I?"

Jimmy's greedy eyes filled with anticipation, and the back door of the pearly white truck had barely opened before Jimmy was inside. But the doors closed just as quickly, and the truck continued along the road just as leisurely, its orange roof glistening in the early sun.

']****

YOU WILL POST ON ISB NOW

I like it, except for the kidnapping twist at the end.

I thought perhaps Little Jimmy would be struck by the truck, but no, even worse I see. Rather twisted, but I really enjoyed it. Ongoing description of Peachy Penguin was excellent.