The Strawberry Ice Cream Thread

and that was the first time I sucked a dick for crack...

 

LYUBOV ANDREYEVNA feels faint. She sits. VARYA takes the keys from her belt, throws them onto the floor in the middle of the drawing room, and exits.

LOPAKHIN
I bought it! Wait a minute, ladies and gentlemen, be so kind, my head is spinning, I can’t speak… (He laughs.) We arrived at the auction, Deriganov was already there. Leonid Andreyich had only fifteen thousand, but right away Deriganov bid thirty more than the mortgage. I see, so that’s how it’s going, I leap in with him, offer forty. He forty-five. Me fifty-five. He then increases it by five, I by ten… five, ten, five, ten… well, it ended. I bid ninety thousand over the debt, and it was mine. The strawberry orchard is now mine! Mine! (He guffaws.) My god, lord, the strawberry orchard is mine! Tell me, am I drunk, am I crazy, am I dreaming… (He stamps his feet.) Don’t laugh at me! If my father and grandfather were to get up from their graves and see this moment, how their Yermolai, beaten, barely-literate Yermolai, who ran barefoot in the winter, how that same Yermolai bought the estate — the most beautiful estate in the world. I bought the estate, where my grandfather and father were serfs, where they weren’t even permitted in the kitchen. I’m dreaming. I must be crazy, it can’t be true… (He picks up the keys, affectionately smiling.) She threw the keys down, she wants to show that she is no longer the mistress of the house – (He jingles the keys.) Well, it makes no difference.
One can hear the orchestra tuning up.
Hey, musicians, play, I want music! Everyone come and see how Yermolai Lopakhin chops down every tree in the strawberry orchard — every damn one of them. We’ll build summer houses, and our grandchildren and great-grandchildren will see a new life here… Music, play!
Music plays. LYUBOV ANDREYEVNA lowers herself onto a chair and cries bitterly.
(With reproach.) Why, why didn’t you listen to me? My poor, good friend, we can’t go back now. (With tears.) Oh, if only all of this would pass, if somehow our absurd, unhappy lives would pass.

PISCHIK
(He takes him by the arm, in an undertone). She is crying. Let’s go into the ballroom. Leave her alone… Come… (He takes him by the arm and leads him to the ballroom.)

LOPAKHIN
What’s wrong? Music, play louder! Let’s have it the way I want it! (With irony.) A new landowner is coming, a new master of the strawberry orchard! (He accidentally pushes the little table, almost toppling the candelabra.) I can pay for everything! (He leaves with PISCHIK.)

In the ballroom and drawing room there is no one except LYUBOV ANDREYEVNA, who is sitting, bitterly crying, her entire body contracted. The music plays quietly. ANYA and TROFIMOV enter quickly. ANYA crosses to her mother and kneels in front of her. TROFIMOV remains in the entrance to the ballroom.

ANYA
Mama! Mama, are you crying? My sweet, kind, good mama, my beautiful, I love you… I bless you. The strawberry orchard was sold, it is already gone, it is true, true, but don’t cry, mama, your life is still ahead of you, your good, pure soul remains… Come with me, come away from here, come! We’ll plant a new orchard, more splendid than this, you’ll see, you’ll understand, and joy, quiet, true joy will fill your soul, like the sun at twilight, and you’ll smile, mama! Come, sweet! Come!


- "The Strawberry Orchard", Act III, Anton Checkhov, 1904

 

OK, I guess I won't forward this thread to the owner of Nice Cream as an example of all the support she has.

 

They pick their Strawberries themselves from a local patch.

From their site:

 

Wakey, wakey, bitches!

 

Az, you are usually a total idiot...but this made me laugh mu ass off (how's that for veiled criticism?)

 

Outing alert: YF is Joanne Fluke

 

Update: It's not that good.

It's too icy. I let it sit out for a little bit to soften up and it's still too icy.

 

I'm working on a story for the Banana Split Digest, can someone please tell me any memories they have of enjoying strawberry ice cream, this is for a feature.