damion rothbauer - ten - done
Aug 17, 2021 18:00:06 GMT -5
Post by thompson harvard - d2b - arc on Aug 17, 2021 18:00:06 GMT -5
{ damion rothbauer }
I've been in the business for a while now.
What? You think I'm involved with crime? The only crime here is our delicious specialty menu items! If you want somethin' a bit more subtle, we have the classic chocolate and vanilla flavors as well! Trust- I've tast'd every single one of these flavors right before you at least five times in each stage of development. I know that they're good, and that's not just an advertising fluke! I've been scoopin' these darn bowls ever since the footstool had my head above the counter. It's a family business, ya' see? Me, pap, my momma and my brother 'n' sister have spent more time scoopin' ice cream than those folk across the street. We have the heart - the soul. That's the Rothbauer Business. Pa' always said that if you didn't scoop your heart into these here cups that it wasn't bein' done right.
Really, though. With the District Ten drawl out of the way and my obligatory store shout-out, I'm Damion. Nice to meet 'ya. My life has been ice cream as long as I could taste it, which given that ice cream is a pretty soft treat, I've had a whole damn lot of it. Ice cream has been a business passed down through my family for generations to come. Hell, my great grandparents even made ice cream for those who would pass us by during the war, free of charge. It was their way of honoring their fight. Grandpa would talk about how his 'pa would reminisce over the times when anyone would come into his store, where everything wasn't so divided and people locked away in sectors of the world like animals in a cage. They said it was nice seeing the camaraderie between a bunch of folk just wantin' a scoop of ice cream.
I guess that's why they kept the business goin'. They hoped that while we were separated following the war, it didn't matter who ya were, our dear ice cream parlor was a good place to stop by and provide a middleground for people to meet. 'Cause what is there to fight over when you're too busy lickin' away at some ice cream? The flavor to choose is often a debacle, but one done out of platonic banter. Kinduh like when Delilah and I fight over who gets the front seat when we go out for deliveries. Or who gets to taste the lab flavors - not that they were typically anything good, but it was a lighthearted fight. We knew it didn't matter in the end. Food brings a lotta people together, really. It gives people a reason to sit at the table together and just focus on the lip smackin goodness in front of 'em. Sure, once the food is gone, nothin's stoppin them from smackin' each other. But they can at least enjoy some darn good food.
Whenever I'm:
- not at the parlor,
- picking up ingredients,
or
- delivering orders,
you can normally find me workin' on school. If it wasn't anything dairy, it's normally academics. Sure, ma' and 'pa make us live and breathe ice cream, but they think school is important. I think it's just so we know a lot of them fancy words - like toothsome or delectable or succulent, because obviously big words for food mean big results of taste. I like hangin' out with Delilah and Dustin a lot, too. Them two are my brother and sister (Delilah older, Dustin younger). They went with a D theme for us names, which I think we all can appreciate a solid D, but a group of them is better.
Or somethin' like that.
My uncle and his family own a cattle ranch, which is where we get a lot of the dairy products we need for our ice cream n' shakes.
Shakes are a very special thing - we only do those if we feel like pullin' out the damn machine. Or if there's a birthday. Birthday shakes fall under my category of must-haves. You should try one sometime!
Anyway. The cattle ranch. I like helpin' them out with their milk deliveries if the route ever passes by their place. Delilah says it's one of my weaknesses. I like helpin' people out when I can. It's easy for me to feel proud of myself if I satisfy n' I like leaving a good impression. She says it's a bad thing cause' people might abuse my kindness, but who would go and do that? Abuse kindness for a scoop of ice cream? Come on now, that's silly. If ya' wanted a scoop so bad, just give me a quick kiss on the cheek, and I'll get ya one!
Grandma always fussed over our ginger hair as if it was a gift from above, but I never saw anythin' special about it. It was hair. A lot of people have red hair in Ten. Maybe she just wishes she had our ginger instead of the grey she has now. I'd say I have a bit of a longer face- Delilah likes to say that they could use me as an advertisement for our Orange flavor if they just put a cone design on my face and used my longer hair as the scoop of ice cream. They did that once when I was younger because 'ma thought it'd be cute. Ma' was soon informed that orange flavoured ice cream doesn't cry.
We're pretty average compared to other people when it comes to height. I stand a few inches taller than my 'Pa. At his age, he's embraced the ice cream availability and was the soldier to take the pounds that we would've gotten had we been the ones eating it. Well, him and Dustin. Dustin took a few pounds too. The thing people tend to point out the most are my hands. Them things are big - the size of our larger cone option at full span. Otherwise, I'm normal. Your average ice cream scoopin', ginger haired, green eyed fella'.
I don't have a whole lotta' friends here in ten. The ice cream parlor made it hard to make friends that wanted me for me and not the ice cream. Which I was happy to provide if they were nice enough to me, but after a while, I tend to feel more of an ice cream scoop to them than an actual friend. But that's okay - I have Delilah and Dustin to keep me entertained. Along with the orange tabby cat, Scoops, we have roamin' around the shop to keep mice out of the damn place. I sometimes steal an extra glass of milk when delivering my uncles' rounds to give to Scoops. That way I'm the favorite and he makes sure that the mice won't get anywhere near me. Delilah says that's not how it works, but I don't see Delilah at her feet every night either.
With that cross-district fair thing they've got comin' around the corner, Ma and 'Pa keep talkin' about how it could make some great profit for us. Maybe we could get enough money to finally get a cart to move around the district and wait outside the school with. Kids love money. Parents love making their kids shut up - and I promise ya', some of our flavors are bound to have them kids lickin away for days. Delilah says we won't get much money from it and Dustin don't give a damn, so they're hopin that I can take the reigns come the fair. And if we can get a booth. Which I don't mind, I am a fan of service for a reason. Maybe I'll finally make a friend out of it too. But maybe they'll just use me for another scoop.
Though, just like how my grandparents say, a scoop of ice cream is a scoop of time to talk.
So let's talk.
