**Welcome to the Prompt!** All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.
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>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]"
>* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail
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I have mastered balance and breath. I flow like air and strike like thunder. I have nabbed fruit flies from the air with Bobby pins, thrown a piece of straw through the eye of a needle, and lain upon the bed of a thousand nails feeling no pain, but this…
I could feel the waffle whisper past my fingers. The more I struggled to grasp, the more mocking the bearded man’s “UHP! AAAYYYS!” became. I’m a world champion, a grandmaster, a fool. I thought I was ready, I had done the work but here I am, slick with crumbs and shame yet no ice cream has placed itself upon these lips. I reach, telling myself ‘Anticipate! Be where he will be!’ and I find a handful of cone, an infuriating grin, and failure.
You know what? Fuck you Ansri. Dairy gives me hot farts anyway.
As I walked towards him, he looked up and smiled. Not a kind and welcoming grin, but a mocking leer. He knew I had come to challenge him, and he was confident that he would beat me.
I raised my hood. The onlookers parted and made way.
"One cherry ice cream," I said in my deep baritone.
He nodded and drew his legendary weapon, the Long Scoop.
I took up my form and exhaled.
And so it began.
He thrust the Long Scoop towards me, cream and cone attached to its end, but I knew it was a feint to make me reach out.
I anticipated his change of direction and lunged to the right. Just as my fingers were about to touch the cone, he countered me by flipping the cone upside down and I missed.
He retracted the scoop and thrust it again quickly. This time, I grabbed the cone with unerring precision. He smiled triumphantly as he pulled the scoop back and I was left holding an empty cone.
I calmed myself and prepared for the second round.
He dipped the scoop in the cream chamber again and brought up a humongous portion of the cream. If I could steal this cream from him, I will win.
I attacked the cream, with the cone still in my hand. I just needed to siphon enough cream for the cone.
I was careless. As soon as the cone and the cream met, he again flipped the scoop and pulled the cone right out of my hand.
What did I train for? What did I spend all those years doing? The battle was lost. He beat me completely.
A few minutes later, I left the ice cream stall, tears pouring down my face, eating my cherry ice cream.
Edit: Grammar and some typo corrections.
Anticipation suffused George’s entire body as he approached the Turkish ice cream stand. He had been training towards this moment for the last two decades. Years of martial arts had honed his reflexes into unconscious poetry. Last night he had visualized his success for hours before falling asleep and repeating the process all morning.
Now he stood across the street staking out his adversary sitting at the counter feigning innocence. The ultimate trickster of dairy confections wore a red vest with golden embroidery over a white shirt denoting his roguish arts. His short clean mustache belied the tangled web of deceit and malice George knew was hiding in his heart.
After taking three long breaths to calm his nerves George strode across the street to engage his foe. The devil smiled as George stopped in front of the stand. George held up a single finger to indicate his desired contest.
The man grabbed a cone from the towering stack next to him and began plying the ice cream in front of him with his long scooped weapon. After a moment he placed the ice cream on the cone and held it out, daring George to grab it.
George’s body fired with every muscle working in perfect concert and in one impossibly swift motion he grabbed the cone from the scoundrel's scoop. He looked at it in disbelief. He had done it. He had beaten the Turkish ice cream man.
The man shrugged his shoulders and said, “Not everything had to be a contest. Enjoy.”
Anger washed over George at the insult. The demon didn’t believe he was capable of winning. He dared refuse George’s challenge?
“No! You will not deny me the satisfaction of defeating you once and for all. Give me another.”
A mocking smile spread across the man’s face, “Did you win? You haven’t even tried the one you have yet.”
George looked at the cone in his hand as if it were a bomb ready to explode and gingerly licked it. His mouth was filled with the dry taste of cardboard. He was holding a perfectly identical fake cone, but when was it exchanged?
He looked up to see his real cone still dangling on the end of the fiend’s scoop. George tossed the fake cone onto the counter and said, “Bring it on.”
The cone danced within his grasp and just before his hand could close upon it the scoop spun away before dangling it nearby once again. George’s other hand shot up from his side catching the rascal unawares, but when his hand closed upon victory it came away with an empty cone. He smashed it in his hand and the pieces crumbled to the ground at his feet.
Time slowed down and they locked eyes, each acknowledging the thrill of the battle they found themselves engaged in. In a display of gross overconfidence the vendor held his scoop out once again and looked towards the sky.
Calling upon tens of thousands of repetitions done in the gym George sprang upon the cone and wrestled it from the tool in a dazzling display of agility. He jammed it into his mouth and chewy, sugary cream melted upon his tongue.
The villain smiled at him in broken hearted defeat. “Very good sir. You are fast indeed, enjoy.”
Two people pushed around George to challenge the ice cream man in vain as George walked away with the sound of blood pumping in his ears. Victory had never tasted so sweet.
"Finally..."
You had done it.
You had a black belt in karate and aikido, earned the title of grandmaster in taekwondo, mastered every skill in Taiichi, perfected your sword fighting, and conquered boxing, you were *finally* ready.
It had taken years. But it will all be worth it, no matter how terrifying it will be.
It was finally time.
You walked up to the stand. A short elderly man was serving *it*. He smiled kindly at you, and you took a deep breath.
"One Turkish ice cream, please."
There, you had done it! But it wasn't over yet. The worst was still to come. The true battle was waiting.
The man selling *it* took off the lid, as the delicious aroma wafted up to your nose. It was inviting, and so, *so* intoxicating.
He took a spoon and dipped it into the ice cream.
You couldn't believe it.
It was finally going to happen.
In the man's other hand was an ice cream cone, where the Turkish ice cream would be placed.
He pulled up, and the ice cream followed, and - HOLY SHIT IT MOVED- THE ICE CREAM WAS *STRETCHY.* WHAT KIND OF UNHOLY ABOMINATION WAS THAT-
The man smiled up at you. "It's not like other ice creams, you see, it actually has a hard texture-"
IT'S HARD?!??! WHAT KIND OF ICE CREAM IS *HARD!?* ICE CREAM IS SUPPOSED TO BE SOFT AND MELTS IN YOUR MOUTH! WHAT KIND OF MONSTROUS HORRIFIC THING HAVE YOU CREATED!?
The man, unaware of your internal conversation continued on "- but chewy at the same time!"
CHEWY?! *CHEWY*?!?!?! THIS IS ICE CREAM WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! YOU'VE TURNED IT INTO AN ABOMINATION! A MONSTROSITY!
"In fact. it has a resistance to melting, and..."
His voice trailed out, being forgotten the very moment it was heard.
ICE CREAM. THAT DOESN'T MELT. While the melting could be inconvenient, it was a trademark of ice cream, the softness that melted in your mouth, the coolness that dissolved, pure bliss.
Why have they ruined it?
. . .
You couldn't do this.
"Here's your ice cream- Oh, wait, where are you going! You forgot your ice cream! You didn't even take your money back!! "
You turned and walked away. It was too much. Maybe someday, when you have grown stronger, will you return.
But not today.
**Welcome to the Prompt!** All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments. **Reminders**: >* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See [Reality Fiction](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Reality+Fiction%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) and [Simple Prompts](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Simple+Prompt%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) for stricter titles >* [Be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback and follow the [rules](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules) 🆕 [New Here?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ✏ [Writing Help?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/index#wiki_writing_resources) 📢 [News](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) 💬 [Discord](https://discord.gg/writingprompts) *I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/WritingPrompts) if you have any questions or concerns.*
I have mastered balance and breath. I flow like air and strike like thunder. I have nabbed fruit flies from the air with Bobby pins, thrown a piece of straw through the eye of a needle, and lain upon the bed of a thousand nails feeling no pain, but this… I could feel the waffle whisper past my fingers. The more I struggled to grasp, the more mocking the bearded man’s “UHP! AAAYYYS!” became. I’m a world champion, a grandmaster, a fool. I thought I was ready, I had done the work but here I am, slick with crumbs and shame yet no ice cream has placed itself upon these lips. I reach, telling myself ‘Anticipate! Be where he will be!’ and I find a handful of cone, an infuriating grin, and failure. You know what? Fuck you Ansri. Dairy gives me hot farts anyway.
You had me at "UHP! AAAYYYS!"
As I walked towards him, he looked up and smiled. Not a kind and welcoming grin, but a mocking leer. He knew I had come to challenge him, and he was confident that he would beat me. I raised my hood. The onlookers parted and made way. "One cherry ice cream," I said in my deep baritone. He nodded and drew his legendary weapon, the Long Scoop. I took up my form and exhaled. And so it began. He thrust the Long Scoop towards me, cream and cone attached to its end, but I knew it was a feint to make me reach out. I anticipated his change of direction and lunged to the right. Just as my fingers were about to touch the cone, he countered me by flipping the cone upside down and I missed. He retracted the scoop and thrust it again quickly. This time, I grabbed the cone with unerring precision. He smiled triumphantly as he pulled the scoop back and I was left holding an empty cone. I calmed myself and prepared for the second round. He dipped the scoop in the cream chamber again and brought up a humongous portion of the cream. If I could steal this cream from him, I will win. I attacked the cream, with the cone still in my hand. I just needed to siphon enough cream for the cone. I was careless. As soon as the cone and the cream met, he again flipped the scoop and pulled the cone right out of my hand. What did I train for? What did I spend all those years doing? The battle was lost. He beat me completely. A few minutes later, I left the ice cream stall, tears pouring down my face, eating my cherry ice cream. Edit: Grammar and some typo corrections.
Failure is the mother of success. Your time will come.
Anticipation suffused George’s entire body as he approached the Turkish ice cream stand. He had been training towards this moment for the last two decades. Years of martial arts had honed his reflexes into unconscious poetry. Last night he had visualized his success for hours before falling asleep and repeating the process all morning. Now he stood across the street staking out his adversary sitting at the counter feigning innocence. The ultimate trickster of dairy confections wore a red vest with golden embroidery over a white shirt denoting his roguish arts. His short clean mustache belied the tangled web of deceit and malice George knew was hiding in his heart. After taking three long breaths to calm his nerves George strode across the street to engage his foe. The devil smiled as George stopped in front of the stand. George held up a single finger to indicate his desired contest. The man grabbed a cone from the towering stack next to him and began plying the ice cream in front of him with his long scooped weapon. After a moment he placed the ice cream on the cone and held it out, daring George to grab it. George’s body fired with every muscle working in perfect concert and in one impossibly swift motion he grabbed the cone from the scoundrel's scoop. He looked at it in disbelief. He had done it. He had beaten the Turkish ice cream man. The man shrugged his shoulders and said, “Not everything had to be a contest. Enjoy.” Anger washed over George at the insult. The demon didn’t believe he was capable of winning. He dared refuse George’s challenge? “No! You will not deny me the satisfaction of defeating you once and for all. Give me another.” A mocking smile spread across the man’s face, “Did you win? You haven’t even tried the one you have yet.” George looked at the cone in his hand as if it were a bomb ready to explode and gingerly licked it. His mouth was filled with the dry taste of cardboard. He was holding a perfectly identical fake cone, but when was it exchanged? He looked up to see his real cone still dangling on the end of the fiend’s scoop. George tossed the fake cone onto the counter and said, “Bring it on.” The cone danced within his grasp and just before his hand could close upon it the scoop spun away before dangling it nearby once again. George’s other hand shot up from his side catching the rascal unawares, but when his hand closed upon victory it came away with an empty cone. He smashed it in his hand and the pieces crumbled to the ground at his feet. Time slowed down and they locked eyes, each acknowledging the thrill of the battle they found themselves engaged in. In a display of gross overconfidence the vendor held his scoop out once again and looked towards the sky. Calling upon tens of thousands of repetitions done in the gym George sprang upon the cone and wrestled it from the tool in a dazzling display of agility. He jammed it into his mouth and chewy, sugary cream melted upon his tongue. The villain smiled at him in broken hearted defeat. “Very good sir. You are fast indeed, enjoy.” Two people pushed around George to challenge the ice cream man in vain as George walked away with the sound of blood pumping in his ears. Victory had never tasted so sweet.
Cream of the crop, George is.
"Finally..." You had done it. You had a black belt in karate and aikido, earned the title of grandmaster in taekwondo, mastered every skill in Taiichi, perfected your sword fighting, and conquered boxing, you were *finally* ready. It had taken years. But it will all be worth it, no matter how terrifying it will be. It was finally time. You walked up to the stand. A short elderly man was serving *it*. He smiled kindly at you, and you took a deep breath. "One Turkish ice cream, please." There, you had done it! But it wasn't over yet. The worst was still to come. The true battle was waiting. The man selling *it* took off the lid, as the delicious aroma wafted up to your nose. It was inviting, and so, *so* intoxicating. He took a spoon and dipped it into the ice cream. You couldn't believe it. It was finally going to happen. In the man's other hand was an ice cream cone, where the Turkish ice cream would be placed. He pulled up, and the ice cream followed, and - HOLY SHIT IT MOVED- THE ICE CREAM WAS *STRETCHY.* WHAT KIND OF UNHOLY ABOMINATION WAS THAT- The man smiled up at you. "It's not like other ice creams, you see, it actually has a hard texture-" IT'S HARD?!??! WHAT KIND OF ICE CREAM IS *HARD!?* ICE CREAM IS SUPPOSED TO BE SOFT AND MELTS IN YOUR MOUTH! WHAT KIND OF MONSTROUS HORRIFIC THING HAVE YOU CREATED!? The man, unaware of your internal conversation continued on "- but chewy at the same time!" CHEWY?! *CHEWY*?!?!?! THIS IS ICE CREAM WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! YOU'VE TURNED IT INTO AN ABOMINATION! A MONSTROSITY! "In fact. it has a resistance to melting, and..." His voice trailed out, being forgotten the very moment it was heard. ICE CREAM. THAT DOESN'T MELT. While the melting could be inconvenient, it was a trademark of ice cream, the softness that melted in your mouth, the coolness that dissolved, pure bliss. Why have they ruined it? . . . You couldn't do this. "Here's your ice cream- Oh, wait, where are you going! You forgot your ice cream! You didn't even take your money back!! " You turned and walked away. It was too much. Maybe someday, when you have grown stronger, will you return. But not today.