Diary Queen set a blizzard against her starving serfs, soft swirling them into submission. One alone busted her dictatorial parfait: Binky.
Cone or cup, cake or creamy swirl the Dairy Queen preened in her stainless steel court as Binky launched lime jellybeans at her plastic cone sign with his slingshot.
Gigantic palace dogs drooled as Binky licked an ice cream sandwich he stole from Dairy Queen’s icy vault; her displeasure would seek an example of his brash indulgence.
Hot summer temperatures rose as oppressed lines wrapped around the ice cream novelty stand. Dairy Queen’s chilled smile curled as she made them all wait.
Binky plotted his next outlaw foray from the shade behind a nearby oak.
Queenie taunted and condescended to the throng. “Let them eat splits” was her haute cry.
Her paper hatted goons whisked around her patrons, doling out stale empty wafer cones.
Binky saw his chance as he swiped a paper hat, tucked his sherbet orange hair underneath and stealthily entered the royal stand.