Ice & Cream

Sprinkle

“Jack, dear? Is that you?”

Both of Jack’s parents had jobs in Slurpee City, so they were hardly ever present during the week. For that reason, the sweet old voice calling out to Jack was coming from none other than his grandmother.

Now wholly embarrassed, Jack pulled his hat further down, to better hide his face. He let only his ears keep him informed of her approach.

“Now, Jack, what has happened?”

His grandmother had once been chief researcher at the ice cream magical academy, leading the effort to discover all the great ways in which they could enrich the city’s produce. Under her, they developed such things as self-multiplying sprinkles and timing a cream's temperature drop.

With teary eyes and a melancholic tone, Jack explained all that had happened. How Jane was going to leave for Cookie City, and how he had promised to make Jane an ice cream. He could still picture the honest and loving and yearning smile on her face, when he had announced it to her.

Once he was done with all of the retelling, he noted how his grandmother was staring at his ice cream. Very intently. She was a plump and energetic old lady, wearing chocolaty colored attire with a caramel wig and other such props around her clothes, like buttons and cuffs.

“This ice cream is really precious,” she stated.

“I made it. The only real spells I used were to freeze it in time for thirty minutes, and that one spell to make sprinkles last longer? They split and dig into the cream? I. I wanted her to taste it freshly made.”

“Yes. I can definitely see that," Anna said, looking at him with a knowing smirk. "She has always been a very dear friend to you, has she not?”

His eyes went wet again, silently, as he looked aside to sadly state, “Indeed…”

“Well, what would you say if I told you she could still taste your ice cream?”

Jack looked at his grandmother, seeing the teasing and sweet smile she was so known for. What she was not known for was lying.

“What?” Jack asked but immediately shook his head in disbelief. “Don’t tease me like that, grandmommy. my heart is too chilled for those kinds of jokes.”

She chuckled softly and straightened up. “Oh, not at all, my dear grandson. Believe me, it is a proposition of much seriousness. In fact, it will certainly require no small measure of effort on your part. And risk, we cannot forget the risk!”

Jack sniffed against his sleeve, watching her half-hopefully, “how do you mean?”

“I can make it so the ice cream lasts all the way to Cookie City, or even farther. For as long as you want.”

Jack eyed her a bit perplexed. “And how would I make the journey?”

“How indeed,” she asked rhetorically, with a joking nod. “I am afraid we lack the resources to arrange for transportation, not to mention it would put others at great risk and danger.”

“Then I would travel there… on foot?”

“If it is what you desire, sweetheart. I have the means to keep your ice cream fresh out of the maker,” she jested with the figure of speech, “if you are willing to brave the dangers that need to be braved, for Jane.”

Jack stood still in thought, digesting what she was saying.

“You do not need to decide now, my dear grandson. Think on my offer and--”

“There is nothing to think about, granny,” Jack interrupted her, “I made her a promise!”

Jack nodded with certainty.

Smiling proudly, Anna stood up. “Well then, if you will follow me.”

His grandmother led him to her room, and from there, to a private attic that she apparently had. It was a part of the house he had never seen before. Inside it was a dusty and old unused culinary laboratory. He could see a table full of vials, the freezer within which to store the ice-creams, cabinets, and other such parts of a lab.

“You used to make ice creams here?”

She smiled, not answering, and walked next to an awfully peculiar statue of some kind of ice-cream-looking monster. It had its mouth open and eyes closed in an expression of boredom, and was hardly higher than Jack’s waist.

“You will travel on foot across the land, but you shall not be doing so alone. This here will be your very trustworthy, very competent companion,” she explained, hovering her hand over the statue’s head.

Her hand emitted some sort of glow. Within moments, the statue gained the texture of life, and the critter it actually was became very real right in front of Jack.

Apparently, it had been in the middle of talking. “-Ooooooring, Oh! Hey that was fast,” the critter spoke, a bit too fast. His voice sounded like that of a toddler in terms of pitch, but the tone felt matured. It was hard to explain.

The critter looked over at Jack with exciting, trouble-making eyes, and then looked back at Jack’s grandmother.

“Whoah, lookit you! How long’ve I been out?”

“Fifty years… About,” she said, calmly.

“Woooooooow,” he reacted, opening his mouth ridiculously wide, turning his head towards Jack as if inviting him to join him in amazement. Jack didn't, and  so he looked back at her. “Guess that explains the wrinkles! And white hair! And lack of a ra--”

“Very amusing, Sprinkle!” Anna interrupted, making him giggle. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

“And I care why?” he asked, without any malice in the voice. Then he looked around at their bleak and dusty surroundings. “What’s been happening, anyways? Who’s the brat?”

“Grandmother… What is this?” Jack, in turn, asked, now that he had finally been acknowledged.

“He…is a sweetum, Jack. A magical being that is linked to our city. He is called Sprinkle, and he will carry your ice cream within him.”

“He will eat my ice cream?” Jack asked, appalled. “How is that helpful?”

“I’m a sweetum, kid! Ma-gi-cal! Pay attention! I can store your ice cream and keep it fresh and sweet if I want to. And if I’m not under the sun for too long,” he said with a giggle.

“That is all? Can you not do some more useful magic? Teleportation, for instance?” Jack asked.

Sprinkle scoffed and pouted, comically offended. “Ain’t you the smarty pants?! Try carrying your own bitter ice -cream without me then.”

“Wha -- how do you know that’s what I--”

“Yer holdin’ it, and yer not eatin’ it, and she said so,” Sprinkle pointed out, and then shrugged. “Are you slow in the head? Anyway, I’m outta here.”

Sprinkle hopped to turn his back to them, and once he landed, started waddling away.

“Sprinkly…” came the sweet voice of Jack’s grandmother.

Sprinkle shivered in place. At once, he turned around to protest, “don’t call me that, woman!”

“You owe me a favor, Sprinkle, and I shall now collect. You asked what has been happening, right? Well, mostly war.”

“War?!" He shook his head, bemused, “what’re folk doing for weapons? Throwing candy at each other?”

Anna nodded regrettably. “Actually, it is quite horrific the extents of their accomplishments in that area. Cookie City started the whole conflict, so far as it seems.”

Sprinkle scoffed, but it was clear that he was concerned, despite his higher-than-thou facade, “damn cookies always needed too much of other city’s stuff to spice them up.”

“All of that is irrelevant to my favor, Sprinkle. A very special friend of my grandsons' has left for Cookie City. Jack vowed to deliver the ice cream to her, but alas, she has left before he could do so.”

“To Cookie City?” Sprinkle asked.

Anna simply nodded.

“Ohh…” he shook his head and spoke in a patronizing tone. “I’m afraid I don’t owe you that much of a favor, Annie.”

She, though, smiled kindly. Cunningly. “The favor I am collecting is simple. Store the ice cream, and evaluate it.”

“Oh, just that? Sur sur.”

Before Jack could react, Sprinkle opened his mouth wider than apparently possible and hopped, gobbling Jack’s entire hand.

“GAH!” Startled, Jack immediately retrieved it, without the ice cream.

“Calm down, sweetheart,” his grandmother gestured, and Jack obeyed, silently stepping back to see what would happen.

Sprinkle seemed to be tasting something. Then, his expression turned content.

“Heh, sly old weasel." Grinning, he shook his head to himself before turning to Jack. “Alright, kid, I’ll help you out!”

“What?”  Jack asked, utterly at a loss.

Sprinkle stood before him proudly. “I’ll carry the ice cream for ya, keep it fresh and sweet. In return, you just gotta keep me safe, and that includes keeping me out of the sun. Shade's going to be our most important ally!”

Jack looked at Sprinkle carefully, considering it all. “Let me see the ice cream, please,” he timidly requested.

Sprinkle rolled his eyes and opened his mouth wide. Jack could see a tongue-tentacle thing holding the ice-cream out for Jack to see. “Haphy?”

Jack smiled contentedly. “Yes. And this will really work?” he asked his grandmother.

“You have my word, dear” she replied, “I am certain Sprinkle will prove to be nothing short of a stalwart and loyal companion.”

Sprinkle shrugged in amusement. "Hah!"

Smiling, Anna moved to grab another item. “But while Sprinkle will keep the ice-cream fresh," she continued, "he will hardly be of any help in a fight.”

“Hey!” Sprinkle protested, but didn't really argue.

Anna rummaged inside of a cabinet, blocking Jack's view of what might be inside. “Seeing as it is dangerous to go alone, I would also like you to have this.” Turning around, his grandmother presented some kind of sword. The blade was engulfed in some sort of creamy white substance.

“This is an ice-cream sword, Jack. It is an ice sword covered with a cream that was magically enriched to be extraordinarily durable. At the same time, that makes the blade blunt and less deadly.”

“Very powerful substance, I should know,” Sprinkle said with a wink.

“The cream conserves the ice inside,” she explained, handing the sword to Jack for him to inspect it. “The purpose is to be able to carry it across sunny weathers without the ice inside melting. Also, you can use the weapon without having to worry about accidentally causing serious and irreversible damage. It is an excellent weapon to use for self-defense.”

“Wait, can we not simply cover my ice cream in this substance? And send it as a normal package?”

“If you want to ruin it, sure” Sprinkle said, “the cream does nothing to ice, but it’d absolutely ruin your treat, kid.”

“Oh,” Jack nodded, understanding.

He turned the sword around in his hands, inspecting it, and quickly came to find that the very tip of it seemed to lack cream. He could see the clear blueish ice of the sword through that very narrow opening.

“Gran, there seems to be a hole in the coating.”

“That is not a defect, dear, but a feature. If you ever wish to have the ice sword, its sharp and deadly nature fully unleashed, even while it may be temporary... you can very literally squeeze it out.”

“That will not be necessary,” Jack immediately said, “but why does this even exist, grandmother? A weapon… This is a weapon using our ice-cream magic. This is no different from what the other cities have been doing during this war, is it?”

His grandmother nodded. “While our world has never experienced calamities in the magnitude that are now taking place, it has never been completely devoid of conflict.”

“Don’t worry about it now, kid, I can tell you about it later,” Sprinkle said.

“Hm, ok,” Jack assented.

“I’m ready to get moving! These legs haven't worked in fifty years, can ya believe that?!" Sprinkle voiced, conversationally.

Truth be told, he was much more filled with thoughts of the lunacy he was about to undertake than whatever reason had led to the making of that sword. He had just met his very first Sweetum, a legitimately magical creature. His very existence was a manifestation of the very same magic that had allowed him to make Jane's ice cream.

Just like that, Jack was about to leave the city that he had never left, to travel lands that he had only ever heard about. It was crazy.

Yet, it felt so right.