Why we need lids; a letter
Dear DQ drive-thru window operator,
According to the heavy TV ad campaign, today was the day to buy a blizzard - proceeds were dedicated to the Children's Miracle Network. After seeing a little one with a cleft lip, Alexis was horrified and sad and determined to help somehow. And if helping meant eating a frosty treat on a warm day (thank you), well, so be it.
(I had my own reservations about stopping by today seeing as they had a donut with friends in the morning and candy with their great Grandma at the theatre this afternoon, but hey, summer is short. Load 'em up on the kiddy cocaine and live on the edge.)
I wondered if I was applying my very best judgement when I drove away with a blizzard and no lid. But I was being carefree Mom today and I figured you knew what you were doing, being a ice cream purveyor and such. Who am I to question your methods? I bow to your blending expertise.
Alas. I was wrong. I should have reached through the window and shook you until you gave up the lid. The extra special, kid-healing blizzard began to drip. The drips came faster and faster, flying through the car as I shifted. With every left turn, cookie-dough flipped onto my son's blue sweatshirt, causing him to shriek. (Please note he screams very loud.)
We took two right turns into our neighborhood, flicking sticky goo down my vents and into my CD player and stereo. It was MY turn to freak out, DQ blizzard maker. I nearly swore.
So please, provide a lid for the many mothers coming to your charity drive. I know we can be annoying, but we are your bread and butter and I will tell your Mom if you back talk me, missy.
Thank you much,
Mama Milton
Cleaner of Stereos
Wrangler of Sugarfiends
DairyQueen Children'sMiracleNetwork blizzard meltingicecream sugar summer
According to the heavy TV ad campaign, today was the day to buy a blizzard - proceeds were dedicated to the Children's Miracle Network. After seeing a little one with a cleft lip, Alexis was horrified and sad and determined to help somehow. And if helping meant eating a frosty treat on a warm day (thank you), well, so be it.
(I had my own reservations about stopping by today seeing as they had a donut with friends in the morning and candy with their great Grandma at the theatre this afternoon, but hey, summer is short. Load 'em up on the kiddy cocaine and live on the edge.)
I wondered if I was applying my very best judgement when I drove away with a blizzard and no lid. But I was being carefree Mom today and I figured you knew what you were doing, being a ice cream purveyor and such. Who am I to question your methods? I bow to your blending expertise.
Alas. I was wrong. I should have reached through the window and shook you until you gave up the lid. The extra special, kid-healing blizzard began to drip. The drips came faster and faster, flying through the car as I shifted. With every left turn, cookie-dough flipped onto my son's blue sweatshirt, causing him to shriek. (Please note he screams very loud.)
We took two right turns into our neighborhood, flicking sticky goo down my vents and into my CD player and stereo. It was MY turn to freak out, DQ blizzard maker. I nearly swore.
So please, provide a lid for the many mothers coming to your charity drive. I know we can be annoying, but we are your bread and butter and I will tell your Mom if you back talk me, missy.
Thank you much,
Mama Milton
Cleaner of Stereos
Wrangler of Sugarfiends
DairyQueen Children'sMiracleNetwork blizzard meltingicecream sugar summer
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