Fast Fiction: 'Healthier than homemade'

CHICAGO — It was an historically-hot mid-June weekend. 97 on Saturday, with back-to-back days in the 100s predicted.

On this day, the humidity pitched in to make things yet more miserable, giving a thick, soupy feel to the air. Fun times in the Middle West.

Hot day or not, for Roger there was no stopping tonight’s plans for a hot date. Work or life had intervened to cancel their last two meetups. They were due.

To stand up to the heat, Roger had a window air conditioner, but also a network of space coolers and fans. Combined with the smallness of his apartment, it worked out OK.

Regardless the accommodations, there would be sweat. Even if there were a blizzard outside, there’d be a heatwave.

First, though, there was a request: Ice.

At home, Roger had two ice trays full. 24 cubes! That felt like plenty, he thought, for the amount of whiskey they could drink and still mess around. Nothing in excess.

She’d been to his place before. She’d seen the ice trays.

And still she requested ice. Which was to say, more ice. Other ice. Better ice?

Roger went to 7/11. This way he’d get a two-for-one out of the trip: brainfreeze, and the nice ice.

Roger grabbed the biggest Slurpee they had, but the smaller, 7-pound bag of ice.

As he took small sips from the drink — brainfreeze is best experienced alone, out of public view — he looked down at the bag.

“Healthier than homemade,” it read.

So first, a person who knows damn well he has ice, asks for ice. OK.

That didn’t bother him so much. If a few ice cubes help when it’s 100 outside, surely a few more wouldn’t hurt. Buying the smaller of the two bags was an act of protest: Sure, I’ll get some ice, but I’m not gonna go all-in.

But now the ice bag, too, had thoughts about his ice at home.

As he read the ice bag’s explanation, yada yada filtration technology, Roger felt the heat rise to his head. He decided there was no need to make this a thing. Besides, who would he tell?

And he still had to pay for the Slurpee.

He calmly stepped out of line, put the ice bag back, re-topped the Slurpee, then went back and paid.

He’d get a bag of ice. Just not that one.

As Roger opened the door to leave, the clerk spoke up.

“Word to the wise,” he said, and Roger waited.

“Get the big bag.”