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Wicked Ice Cream

The label on the ice cream I just purchased claims it’s so good, my taste buds will thank me for it.

God, I hope not.

Sure, some people can deal with that sort of thing. Not me. If my taste buds suddenly started talking, I’m pretty sure I would either run screaming out the door or jump through the nearest window.

For one thing, it sounds rather painful. I mean, they’d all need mouths to speak. right? And those tiny mouths aren’t going to appear magically. No, my guess is there would be a lot of tearing and bleeding involved — two of my least favorite things.

But the torture wouldn’t end there. Oh no. To enunciate properly, those tiny mouths would also need to have teeth. And tongues! Fuck, what if the taste-buds’ tongues grew mouths of their own? How would my taste buds react? Would they freak out like I would? Of course they would! They’re my fucking taste buds, damn it!

Yeah, I don’t know if I’m really in the mood for ice cream right now.

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