Charlotte and the Ice Cream Factory

Charlotte and the Ice Cream Factory

by

J.G. Hampton

Charlotte and the Ice Cream Factory by J.G. Hampton Copyright 2013 J.G. Hampton Smashwords edition - Discover other titles by J.G. Hampton at Smashwords: Confessions of a Former Fairy Godmother, and the Secret in the Garden. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Charlotte woke up, it was that magical day again, the one that only came once a year and which she waited for the other three hundred and sixty-four days. It was her eighth birthday, her own very, very, special day. Her ancient grandmother had sewed a special dress for her and it hung just waiting for her in the closet. She washed her face and then pulled it over her head. The fit was perfect and so was the design and the color. The black and pink stripes made her resemble a large bumble bee, but she felt like a princess. Preening in the full length mirror she couldn’t help but admire herself; the long haired blonde looked just the way she’d envisioned when she described what she wanted her birthday dress to look like to her grandmother, the seamstress, a few weeks ago.

I want a cotton knit dress of hot pink, the same color as Pepto Dismol which you give me for my tummy aches with a touch of black for sophistication. Shocking pink is my favorite color in all the world, grandmother.

Why you want a Schiaparelli pink dress, Charlotte. That’s the color that the designer, Elsa Schiaparelli, created and was buried in. It’s one of my favorite colors too. I think I’ll make myself a jumpsuit and hat of the same color. Charlotte put on her white socks with crocheted roses, her hot pink shoes and fastened the ankle straps; she felt just like Cinderella. Only her fairy Godmother had been her sixty-seven year old grandmother.

The girl brushed her blonde straight hair and put on her favorite pink polka dotted headband and ran down the stairs to open her birthday gift from her honorary Uncle C.B. She was as excited as if she were the fat lady in the circus going on her first date and almost as nervous as General Tom Thumb and his bride meeting Abraham and Mary Lincoln at their White house wedding reception.

Inside the package were six ice cream bars which she was to sample and taste test for him and then text him about after she found which one she liked the best. The ice cream bars had been arriving mysteriously now for four years along with a small gift in appreciation for her work and the usage of her distinct taste buds and keen olfactory senses

Her life as an orphan had been transformed by the arrival of the beautifully wrapped packages. Why this marvelous man had befriended her was a deep mystery, but why look a gift horse in the mouth? They’d been pen pals for years now and a loving relationship had developed between the two of them.

At first her cautious grandmother had been leery of the friendship. After all, one couldn’t trust people one met over the Internet or in chat sites. In her long life, she’d always heard that nothing was free. There was no such thing as a free lunch. Then why was this stranger sending free ice cream bars to a child? Was it because of her grandchild’s charismatic personality? To know her was to love her, but she was more than a little prejudiced because the eight year old was her only grandchild. She knew that Charlotte Angelina Beauford, was a special child. The old woman was a product of her generation who believed in bogeymen because of her experience of living through World War I and World War II. Hitler, Bloody Nicholas, his cousin German Wilhelm and Stalin had been infamous tyrants who always starred in her nightmares.

Perhaps she was overdoing it a bit, but a child’s safety and happiness were at stake. Could she trust this foreigner who had befriended her granddaughter seemingly out of the blue and the kindness of his heart? She’d warily nibbled the first samples of the ice cream bars herself and when no ill effects on her own person had resulted, she’d deemed the gifts safe enough for her beloved grandchild; this was done in the same way she always examined Charlotte’s Halloween candy .checking them for hidden razor blades. In this day and age, one can’t be too careful. Dear reader do not do this hazardous sampling yourself. It's rather like playing the game of Russian roulette.

By now, Charlotte loved performing the taste tests and cherished and admired her honorary uncle. They’d become close pen pals. Char remembered to bless her Uncle C.B. in her prayers every night along with her dead parents and her grandmother.

Charlotte opened the brightly wrapped pink package with its large silver bow. First she attached the silver bow in her hair and then she pulled out the six mysterious bars from their styro foam ice packed white container. Shaking the package to see if it rattled, she was pleased to hear something rolling around wildly inside. She hoped it was one of her uncle’s delicious gumballs he used in his bubble gum ice cream which was one of her favorite ice creams, because one had a huge wad of gum after finishing the delicious pale pink ice cream.

Charlotte noticed a large golden key taped on the package along with a rolled up document. Quickly she tore open one of the ice cream bars and the smell of chocolate wafted up to her nostrils. Gingerly, she began sampling the first one. The rich chocolate taste melted on her tongue and her taste buds, all ten thousand of them, began their work.

Raspberries filled her palate along with the rich chocolate taste dripping down her throat and then the flavor changed to boysenberries, then blueberries and then to the strange ripe taste of Acacia berries which had been discovered in Tasmania. The sensations and flavors were nothing short of sensational. ‘Simply mervellioux!" she thought hugging herself rapturously with her arms.

Licking her lips she reached for the next ice cream bar. The chocolate connoisseur tore into the rainbow wrapper and bit a large chunk into her mouth; cold liquid fire in the form of ice cream melted on her tongue. She didn’t care for the peppery taste of cayenne pepper because she didn’t like picante sauce nor Mexican food and ran to the kitchen for a drink of water. However, she realized that many kids in her class from south of the border would love the flavor, but this was her taste test and she didn’t like it. She’d tasted some of their enchiladas at lunch and knew that they loved hot, fiery, cheese crisps and knew that they couldn’t get enough of them.

Blaacch! It’s disgustumpious. Charlotte opened the next ice cream bar and nibbled away cautiously. First she noticed the flavor of mint and then she observed that something else was happening: the peppermint ice cream had changed to spearmint and then back again to dark chocolate and then milk chocolate ending up a combination of double mint and then wintergreen flavor, all of which were delicious to her sensitive palate. A creamy green liqueur flooded her mouth when she bit into the chocolate ball that had formed on her tongue. How had that miracle happened? Then malted milk flavor crystals burst in her mouth. She loved the sensations as well as the flavors. That ice cream bar reminded her of the grasshopper crème de menthe dessert her grandmother made and which they always shared on Christmas Eve. The tastes were simply mirvalacular!

Bar number three tasted like mango, then coconut, and then guava which reminded her Of eating mashed green grapes. She knew that this must be her uncle’s new tropical bar that he’d written her about; but when a cloud formed above her head in the kitchen as she chewed another savory bite, she began to get a little nervous. Large beads of moisture formed on the ceiling. When it began raining in the kitchen; she grabbed another bar and ran outside.

Was this really supposed to happen she wondered? There was no telling what her mysterious, creative uncle intended, but she didn’t want to ruin her new birthday dress. With water dripping from her brow, she hurried through the screened kitchen door taking ice cream bar number four outside to her favorite spot in the huge Sycamore tree where she did her writing and kept her diary climbing into its lofty branches amidst the wind chimes and sparkling witch catchers she’d received from her uncle as gifts in the past.

Tearing off the pink wrapper, she warily bit into it. The flavor of bubblegum and white chocolate flooded her mouth. She loved the chewy sensation and chewed away happily and contentedly for over an hour while recording the day’s events in her diary which she kept in a waterproof plastic bag in the huge, sturdy branches of the tree.

That hour was one of the most pleasant she had spent in her entire life. She remembered the birthdays she’d spent with her parents before they’d been tragically run over by the trax train and flattened while looking at the Brigham Young monument in the middle of Salt Lake City where they’d come to explore their genealogical roots.

Charlotte remembered her first doll her departed parents had bought her as well as the art set containing over three hundred water color pencils. Feelings of love flooded throughout her and permeated every pore. Charlotte had forgotten how much her parents had loved her, but to her surprise she also remembered the words on her very first spelling test and the dress she wore her first day of kindergarten. It was a pink dress covered in print butterflies. She'd worn it with an enamel purple striped butterfly pin given to her by her grandmother for good luck. And she had had good luck that day.

Was this the new memory gum he’d written her about designed to help old people as well as children remember their grocery lists and vocabulary lists? When the sweetness of the chewing gum was about gone, a burst of flavor started again and a new flavor of bubble gum with a mixture of spicy cinnamon began. She adored the taste of cinnamon which reminded her of the time she’d shared cinnamon tooth pix with her best friend Lily on their way to first grade. Lily had become one of one of her dearest acquaintances.

When this ended, she blew a large bubble from her lips which became larger, and larger, far larger than any she had ever blown in her life. When it was as large as a baby elephant, the bubble picked her up and she floated down safely from the tree. When she reached the ground, she spit it out carefully avoiding the huge pink mass, which settled like a deflated parachute on the ground; she tentatively poked it with her finger and noticed to her amazement that her uncle had developed gum that was no longer sticky.

Once, she’d ruined her new birthday outfit when the gum she’d been blowing stuck to her face, clothes, and eyelashes. Her grandmother had written a scalding letter to him upon that occasion. Uncle C. learned from his mistakes and so did precocious Charlotte.

‘Simply spictacularageous!’ thought Char. Uncle C. had done it again! How could the next ice cream bar top that? The eight year old went into the kitchen where it had stopped raining, fetching the fifth ice cream bar. She smelled its’ rich, delicious chocolaty scent, which was unique.

Biting into the bar she first noticed its’ creaminess, but something sensational began

happening to her: she remembered her first memory of walking to her father as a toddler, and then the next memory of opening her first Christmas present, which was a huge teddy bear with a red bow given to her by her deceased mama and papa. This was quickly followed by a memory of how pleased she felt with herself when she’d finally learned to ride her bike without training wheels. Why this was the Mr. Good Bar which her honorary uncle had written her about which made everyone happy and thoroughly contented.

She loved the rich aroma and its’ nutlike taste, but it was the good feelings it generated which were truly remarkable; they had been so wonderful and comforting. The ice cream bar was designed to be given by thousands of housewives everywhere to their grouchy husbands. They longer had to mash pills into the mustard to slip in their sandwiches to mellow their grouchy mean husbands. Frozen ice cream bars placed in their lunch boxes would now do the trick. Perhaps doomed marriages and families could be saved.

C.B. also planned on selling them to rest homes and care centers where ornery oldsters would devour them greedily. Charlotte thought they could also be used at the United Nation’s building. This should aid diplomatic negotiations and create good will amidst the numerous ornery diplomats. Installing an ice cream bar vending machine here might prove revolutionary; perhaps C.B. would be nominated for the Nobel peace prize when enough of these marvelous ice cream bars were eaten. Her respect for her awe-inspiring uncle's creativity went up a peg. Truly he was an exceptional creative genius.

Not only was the ice cream bar delicious, it was practical and less expensive to produce than the comparable generic medication. This ice cream bar invention of his would no doubt disturb the fabulously wealthy pharmaceutical companies. Who wouldn't prefer munching on a delicious ice cream bar rather than swallowing a large distasteful pill?

The last amazing feeling she felt was the time she and her grandmother had climbed the Matterhorn together in the Swiss Alps when they’d planted their own flags on top of the mountain, the year the first package had arrived from the Crème de la Crème Ice Cream Factory along with enough money for the expedition. Her grandmother had been overjoyed with the money and used it to fulfill that dream of hers. Together with an experienced mountain guide they climbed up the face of the mountain. After achieving that goal, none of their problems ever seemed insurmountable. Grandmother became a fabulous public speaker sharing this incredible experience for a fee with thousands of others.

Because of her popularity as a speaker, she also wrote a best seller about her escapades called Life Begins at Sixty-five. The proceeds from the book had brought them back from the brink of starvation and padded Charlotte's saving's account for college. Charlotte now felt on top of the world, nothing could faze her. How could one not love this scrumptious ice cream bar?

As usual, the choice would not be easy, the last bar had been simply fabuluscious and fazmantastical! C.B.’s creations were not only delicious, they were good for you. He loaded them with daily servings of essential vitamins.

With regret, the young beauty picked up the last remaining ice cream bar and bit off a chunk, savoring every sensation and flavor. Cherry, her most favorite flavor in the world assaulted her taste buds, all ten thousand of them. The flavor was tart and sour like pie cherries, but this was quickly followed by the ripe taste of a delicious, fresh Bing cherry, then morphing into taste sensations from a wild choke cherry, ending with the marshmallowy taste of the ambrosia salad filled