The freezer makes petty hums, and shrill whines, like a microphone shorting incessantly. If I had teeth, they’d be roughly grating against each other in annoyance, sandpaper against sandpaper. Keys jangle, and then unceremoniously clank against the inner lock, puncturing the defenses of the freezer. As the door unlatches, a cold breath of air whooshes outward, the same effect of a rocket launch…billowing out in a slow, odorless cloud to permeate the stillness. Even with that freedom, there’s an empty space boxing me in, paralyzing me in this abyss. How ironic, that this immense space makes me feel claustrophobic, petrified to move forward even an inch, in fear of falling. The crisp air puffs onto a young girl’s perspiring face. She looks to be about 15, brown hair long and shining, tucked up into a hairnet. The cold hovers like a sharp razor, so uncomfortably close to the throat. She struggles to keep the door open long enough for her to enter. She wedges her foot and heaves with her shoulder. No luck. After a minute of useless huffing and puffing, she stops to collect herself. Her sleeves are rolled up, her hairnet readjusted, and ear buds properly fastened. I can faintly hear music. And finally, with a well-executed shove, she elbows the door open and quickly lodges a box between the door and the wall to keep the door propped open. She wipes her forehead, and starts forward, reaching down to the lowest rung of the cooling rack to pick me up. A jolt, a cough, and there’s a constant swaying from side to side as she dances for a minute. The pop music blaring from her headphones makes a squeaky pitch to my senses, one I do not particularly enjoy. After a moment of wild dancing, she kicks the box away, and catches the door closing on her back. Moving slowly and steadily, she bumps the door once more, quickly sliding through. I start to panic now that I’ve left the only familiar place in this strange world. As she walks, my fear intensifies like a volume dial… rising so high that comprehending the outside world becomes impossible, and I’m paralyzed in my stricken thoughts.

“What’s happening? Can nobody hear me? I can’t breathe. Oh gosh, this is the end. Goodbye cruel world!” 

I get no response except for her humming and singing, “We allllllll are living in a dreammmmm ‘cause life ain’t what it seemsssss. And alllllll these sorrows I have seen, they lead me to believeeeee, that everything’s a mess…”

Distressing. She pauses, and I feel butterflies as she carelessly dumps my container into the display freezer and strides away smacking her gum loudly, a moist smack that makes me cringe. I think I recognize this place. I’m in Chickadee’s Scoop de Loop Ice Cream Shoppe. The door is closed, the lopsided cherry-shaped sign reading, “OPEN.” Moving my gaze from the door, I notice the thick, textured wallpaper: a worn, obnoxious, sunshine yellow. There are patches, pasted here and there, used to cover peeling paint or water stains. The combination of these strange tan patches and this sunshine yellow give the tiny mom-and-pop store the appeal of a banana: authentically sweet, simple, exotic, and happy. At the same time, it feels unnatural and superficial, just a happy smile to cover up the dulled brown and ancient gray splotches of the soul. The wooden tables and chairs gaze at the ice cream display freezer. The freezer stares at the door, and the door peers hopefully out into the street. The open floor plan is coordinated, easy, and flowing.
The atmosphere hangs heavy like the moon, fat and saturated, suffocating the air, waiting. Suddenly, the door jingles and a young couple walks in. They don’t look at each other; they stare intently at their phones. Walking forward, the girl bumps into the counter, causing her to yelp and clutch her bruised knee. The boy still stares at his phone, apathetic and uncaring. I cautiously tilt to look up through the glass encasing me, and witness the girl peering at the ice cream surrounding me. Her eyes are glossed over and speckled like a robin’s egg. Together, they seem too dumb to be real, too innocent for this world, a Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum.
Tweedle-Dee licks her lips and wraps her arms around her torso, shivering from the radiating freezer chill. She slowly rambles down the line, evaluating, like a witness trying to point out the murderer in the line-up. Eventually, she stops and gazes at me quizzically: Rainbow Swirl.

I can see myself through her eyes.

My rainbow swirls revolve around each other, snaking inward to the center, where they’ve meshed to form a murky, nonexistent medley of colors. Like Alice in Wonderland, I am a vortex of circles, filled with odd creatures, running from myself and running from the evil Queen of Hearts.

“…‘Curiouser and curiouser’…” 

I look away from the girl, whose attention is dictated by the buzzing of her phone, and I see Stumpy, the 3-legged calico cat; awkwardly jump on top of the case. She licks her paw tenderly, then hunches down, perching on the edge of the case, her tail fluently swaying and flicking side to side. I can imagine her grinning ear to ear, my own personal Cheshire cat. I hope she doesn’t like ice cream. A paw keeps hitting the case door, a harsh thump that causes a startling jolt to the ice cream. I feel like this freezer is my childhood blanket and that it might be torn, shredded, and decapitated… leaving tatters of overwhelming vulnerability and broken promises. If breached, I’ll melt, taking my existence out of this world far too quickly. Perhaps I’ll age and spoil, becoming an eatable sickness. I REALLY hope she doesn’t like ice cream. Suddenly, I hear a creak and slide lower into the freezer.

“Hey! Stumpy! Stop,” I cried.

“Meow?” she replied.

“No, seriously, I would like to live longer! Go drink some liquid milk, I am unavailable!” I yelled in frustration.

“MEoOooOW!”

It seems my snappy tone didn’t appeal to Stumpy, because she glares through the glass and begins to bang even harder. I begin to feel dizzy with all this shaking and carrying on. The whole ice cream shop, the Tweedles, and Stumpy all seem to be hopping around due to my own personal earthquake. Oh no! I’m being broken apart! I feel fissions, fracturing apart painfully. Every atom is splitting, splicing, and hurting me. A chunk of my side drops. I’m beginning to droop, sag.

“Oh gosh, I might be melting! See what you did, you dratted cat!”

*PURR PURR* “… MEEOOOW!” she replies with a smirk.

I need to get out of this death trap! Stumpy starts widening the hole she made with her claws, scraping, digging to make the hole even more terrifying. I have to do something. I summon strength in my self I never knew I had and start to swirl my colors. They swirl and twist, pushing against the fragile, flimsy, and saturated paper container. My swirls tear through and jolt towards Stumpy, who becomes frightened and jumps to the ground, stumbling as she tries to catch her balance without one leg. The hole closes as she falls, and soon it becomes colder and colder. I am relieved. But now I’ve melted, frozen, and melted again. I’m freezer burnt and all over the freezer and other flavors. The girl with the bubble gum approaches, groans in frustration, and begins to yell at the Tweedles.

“Oi! What’s the big idea?” she yells, “Now I have to clean all this up! How did this even happen? If you two get me fired….” she threatens with a menacing glare.

“Hey! No need to yell! We didn’t do anything,” Tweedle Dum replies.

The bubble gum girl gives him a condescending, annoyed grimace.

“Oh no, of course not! Why, how silly of me. It must have been the ICE CREAM’S doing. Uh huh, yeah right,” she says sarcastically.

She just gives them another frightful stare.

“Just get out of the store,” she sighs, “We’re closed until I can clean this mess up.”

The Tweedles look at one another, sighing dejectedly. They really wanted their ice cream. Oh, well. They pick their phones from their back pocket and walk out of the store, the door clanging shut behind them. Bubble gum girl walks over and closes the blinds, shielding any light. She flips the cherry red sign to say, “Closed.” She walks behind the counter, pop music blaring through her headphones again, and wipes down the counter. When she finishes, she looks at the freezer case, just pondering the mess, and working herself up to complete the task of cleaning. I wait anxiously, waiting to see what she’s going to do. I didn’t want to be eaten, but I also don’t want to be thrown away! My moment in the sun was short, and now the blinds are closed.

“Ugh, I wish I were human, the top of the food chain!” I yell at her, but she doesn’t hear me.

I don’t know what I expect her to do. I mean, what does one do with freezer burned ice cream? She continues to stand there, 3 songs have come and gone through her headphones.
“Smack, POP! Chew, Chew, Chew, Smack, POP!” her gum continues. 

Finally, after the 5th song she starts forward, opens the case to the hot air, and scrapes me from the case. She throws me into the sink, and waters me down until I’m nothing but a liquid, running down into the drain, and into the tangle of underground pipes… through the rabbit hole, but that’s another story.