An ice cream van of dictators
By Stephen Philip Druce
I was ordering an ice cream from an ice cream van.
“A butterscotch ice cream, please.”
“Sorry, I’ve run out of ice cream. I can do you a Joseph Stalin on a cone.”
“Who’s Joseph Stalin?”
“He’s a dead Soviet revolutionary dictator who governed the Soviet Union from the mid-1920s.”
“What flavor is he?”
“Stalin? Well, he’s Stalin flavor.”
“Well, I don’t know about that. If I lick Stalin’s face, one of his old soldiers might hear about it and take offence. He might track me down and shove an ice cream cone into my ass. Have you got chocolate mint ice cream instead?”
“Sorry, I’m all out of ice cream. I’ve only got dead dictators on a single cone left. I can do you a Benito Mussolini.”
“Who’s Benito Mussolini?”
“He’s a dead ex-Prime Minister and dictator who ruled Italy from 1922 to 1943.”
“What flavor is he?”
“Mussolini? Well, he’s Mussolini flavor.”
“Well I’m not sure about that. If I guzzle down Mussolini, one of his old soldiers might get to know about it and think I’m being disrespectful. He might come down here and shove an ice cream wafer into my ass. Have you got vanilla ice cream instead?”
“Sorry, no ice cream. Just dead dictators on a single cone. I can do you a Francisco Franco.”
“Who’s Francisco Franco?”
“He’s a dead ex-general of Spain who ruled as a military dictator from 1939.”
“What flavor is he?”
“Franco? Well, he’s Franco flavor.”
“Well, I don’t know. If I gulp down Franco, one of his old soldiers might find out and think I’m mocking the ex-dictator. He might hunt me down and shove an ice lolly into my ass. Have you got a rum raisin ice cream instead?”
“No, only dead dictators. I can do you a Kim Jong-Un.”
“Kim Jong-Un? He’s not dead.”
“He is — I killed him.”
“Why did you do that?”
“Because he shoved a chocolate ice into my ass.”
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