Congratulations Ice Cream Kid!

You’re a kid and you hate ice cream. Fucking hate it. It hurts your teeth, makes you poop funny and it’s cold. Horribly, horribly cold. But everyone expects you to love ice cream. If you exclude yourself from the culture surrounding ice cream you’ll find yourself a social pariah. So what’s a boy to do?

You’ve spent months pondering this question. Moving towards the seemingly inevitable conclusion that you might have to live out your days as an outcast, a poor wretch for whom the world is simply a string of increasingly hurtful rejections that eventually will push you inside yourself. But you won’t give up. You’ll think and think and think and then you’ll come up with a solution.

You’ll start making ice cream. You’ll steal your mom’s credit card when she’s insensate in a haze of weed smoke one night and order it off the internet, and it’ll arrive a week later.

Like a brewer who hates beer, you’ll approach the entire process with a coolly detatched mindset. You’ll begin by learning the basics, testing them on your little brother, who is a normal fucking kid and likes ice cream just fine.

“This is good!” he’ll cry as he samples your vanilla, and you’ll nod your approval. He’ll respond similarly to all your basics, made simply by googling recipes that people have come up with on the internet and putting them to use in your ice cream making kit.

Once you start to understand how and why these recipes work you’ll begin to work on improving them. It’ll be rocky at first. Your chocolate will taste chalky, you’re strawberry flat and flavorless after one particularly poor attempt. But eventually you’ll find perfection and your little brother will briefly lose consciousness.

This will begin the fourth phase of your plan: advanced experiments.

You always recognized ice cream’s potential for exploratory flavorings. From strange berry combinations to grown-up blends that embody everything most people hate about each flavoring class, ice cream has always seemed to be wasted on those who love it for you. So you’ll begin experimenting with things like marijuana infused vanilla (your mother will love it) and whiskey infused coffee ice cream (which you’ll call Aunt Molly’s Secret). These flavors will pick up buzz around your house, and before long you’ll find yourself the toast of each family dinner, which will begin phase five.

Acquiring funding.

Your rich uncle Carl who doesn’t have any kids will be alone in his apartment when you knock on his door. And when you drop your proposal on his coffee table he’ll actually look impressed as you flip through it.

“Your cost-benefit projections are pretty air tight, kid,” he’ll say with approval. He’ll agree to fund you, but he’ll insist on maintaining majority ownership in the resulting business until such a time as you reach the age of majority. You more or less expected this (Carl is kind of a dick) but you’ll still feel a little disappointed that he didn’t just agree to put the money into a blind trust that you could access once you turned 18.

The business that emerges will be a huge success. You’ll make Ben and Jerry look like two dudes blowing each other. You’ll rake in money hand over fist, establishing factories in America with real benefits and actual compensation for workers. You’ll become a titan of industry, wealthy beyond your wildest dreams before the age of ten. Which means you will no longer have to worry about having friends, because you’ll be richer than god, and people with money don’t need to worry about other people’s opinions.

Congratulations Ice Cream Kid!