henry littlefields : “unpublished ice cream shop”

There is a fish tank in the back of my store.  I don't own this store yet and I don't think the fish tank is there yet either, but I will put a tank in there one day when I own the store.  The store is just a small ice cream shop in San Francisco.  It's called "Everyday Ice Cream."  It is where I am going to retire. If you, whoever you are, ever make it there you can be my number two employee (the number one employee spot is reserved for someone special in my heart).  I will give you the job without an interview and you will not have to bring in a resume.  I do not believe in resumes.  I will try to get through the rest of life without ever updating my resume again.  Instead, I believe in lists:

 

1.       Get out of bed.

2.       Wear a shirt.

3.       Make breakfast and drink a glass of milk.

4.       Wear pants.

5.       Make sure my shoelaces are tied.

6.       Go grocery shopping.

7.       Steal quarters from the charity cup at the counter.

8.       Do laundry

9.       Buy the ice cream shop.

 

It is my plan, if I ever have to apply for a job again, to send in one of my lists to prove to them that I have the qualifications they are looking for.  Maybe I will send in this list:

 

1.       Go to Minnesota.

2.       Find the Mississippi river.

3.       Build a raft.

4.       Make friends with a guy name Jim.

5.       Go floating down the Mississippi with Jim.

6.       Rewrite the greatest book in American Literature when I reach the Gulf of Mexico.

 

Now, I know there is very little chance that I'll be able to reproduce the greatest book in American writings, but my potential employers don't know that so why not wow them a little.

 

The only thing I ask of you when you become the number two employee is that you make sure to clean out that damn fish tank when you get there.  That will be your only responsibility.  The rest of the time we can just sit and think of literary names for the flavors of ice cream.  I'm not talking about stupid names like Bukowski's Rum Raisin or Vonnegut's Galactic Cookies 'n Cream.  No, I was thinking we could name them after famous unpublished novels: The Original of Laura (Nabokov),  And the Hippos Were Boiled in Their Tanks (Burroughs and Kerouac), Prince Jellyfish (Hunter S. Thompson), The God of the Martians (Brautigan)…

 

The ice cream shop is a long way off though.

 

When I woke up this morning there was a refrigerator tipped over in my doorway.  I wish it meant the city was self destructing and fridges were freefalling from the sky, but I'm afraid it was just a case of your average hooligan tossing an old fridge square where they thought it would look pretty.  I have to admit, I would have left my new icebox friend blocking the doorway for the rest of my days if I never had to leave the house again, but I had to tasks and so the song of farewell was a familiar tune in the dawn of the morning. 

 

Off I go.  What a nice stride, so fluid and galloptuous.  And that pace, it must been near world record speed.  Oh, I'm on the top of the hill now.  Wave goodbye.  Shout it out, "Goodbye Herny Littlefields"  And I'm gone.  That's the last you'll see of that guy.  Yep, see you guys somewhere else.

 

A few miles later I stepped on a twig as I walked to work.

 

And not too long after that there was a pavement field with at least twenty dead French soldiers, their souls hovering in the cold morning over their remains, left wondering if they'd ever see the inside of a McDonalds fry basket again.

 

The morning kept giving.  There was the homeless man gathering soda cans in hopes that today would be the day aluminum became a scarce metal.  For a second I wondered if the man would give me his business model for five dollars, but thought it might be a better career move to just steal the cart from him.  And the second stood frozen in time as my head added up all the possibilities that'd open up if I never had to work again.

A couple minutes into the future I was back on my way, free from the time-lock sinkhole a few hundred feet into the past.  And in this future there were two guys in the midst of a childish effort to dig to China.  They had some big tools so their attempt wasn't as laughable as their plan.  Unfortunately, they were both public works employees and amid their adventures had come across a leaky pipe.  Citing the public works code of conduct they gave up on their dreams and began the menial task of keeping the city running.

 

I stood over the hole for a while watching the men work.  Finally, one looked up.  He might have been crying.  That's what I imagined I saw, but I didn't hang around long enough to get a good look.  I just took off screaming.

 

I would outrun responsibility, shedding the duties the world snuck onto my lists.  As I ran I composed new lists:

 

1.        Be the president of a Shaolin dojo.

2.        Get an Argentina fishing pole

3.        Eat an earthquake.

4.        Smell like muffins on Wednesdays.

5.        Keep a marching band in my pocket

6.        Go to Kentucky and put all my money on a horse named 'glue factory'.

7.        Pretend to be a statue for one year of my life.

8.        Find a wizard who can make lead into gold and kill any who say it can't be done.

 

The universe outwitted me though because when I couldn't run anymore I happened to be out front of my work.   And laughs thundered as I went inside.

 

Henry Littlefields made tuna soup for dinner every night last week.  He didn't like to eat it & usually gave it to his dog.  He didn't remember where he last put his dog so the bowls of tuna soup have been piling up.   One day he will clean the whole place & hopefully then he will find his dog. ‘Oh Pineapple head come out and play.’ He refuses to believe his friends who try & convince him his dog is nothing more than a dried piece of pineapple with the word ‘woof’ written on the side.

 

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