It was the summer of ’92 and the pre-teens of 49th street were preparing for the yearly milkshake war.

As was the strange custom of the small town of Bunberry, each girl paired up with another to set up their milkshake stand (rather than the cliche lemonade stand) and battled the other pairs for the title of Milkshake Queens. Who ever was able to attract the stinky boys, sweaty from their plethora of sport-like activities, and make them spend their allowences on the multi-flavored beverages would win the crowns.

The competition had been started centuries ago by some of the girls’ great great great great grandmothers, the tradition being passed down from mother to daughter.

Each year had brought fresh ideas to the capturing of males. In ‘67 the girls had discovered if they included a match with each milkskshake, they weren’t able to keep up with the orders. In ‘84 they had realized if you acted like a tough cookie you’d be sold out by midday.

This year, winners of dance-offs seemed to do the trick.