There he was crying. The ice cream melted at his feet. The puddle grew and grew, and all the kid could do was cry. Another boy greedily stuffed an ice cream sandwich into his mouth. He tossed the wrapper and started down the street. The kid in the cape, looked back and forth from the ice cream to the boy walking away. He curled his little hands into fists.
The children all licked away, their big grins covered in ice cream. They laughed and played. I pulled away from the curb while pop goes the weasel streamed out from atop my truck. I waved goodbye to the children, and they waved back. “Round and round the cobbler’s bench the monkey chased the weasel, the monkey thought ’twas all in fun. Pop goes the weasel”, the music chimed
The plane came down amidst smoke and flames, and that’s the last I saw of the greedy boy. It lay there in the middle of the street spewing out its guts. One by one the neighbors stirred to life. Some peered out from their doors, other peeked out from behind closed curtains. The children shrieked and cried. Theirs mothers came out and held them tight. There, there they would say. Hush my little baby, mommas right here. Down the road a woman just stood there. Her eyes glowed red in the smoke. She stood there helpless, all she could do was cry as she stared at the flaming plane.