It was a Thursday when it all started.
You know how I remember it was a Thursday? It's because I had a
milky iced cone.You see it all started because the Beardchov's from next door couldn't
have iced cones on thursdays. Some stupid rule their family had.
THAT'S how I know it was a thursday .... because as usual, little
Uloff Beardchov threw a wobbler. Their mother said we should not
tease him, but we weren't, we really weren't.
Just BEING next door doesn't make us taunters.
Next thing you know old Beardoff Beardchov, their grandfather was
out front scowling as if we were guilty or something.
That's how it all started, those years of neighbourly feuding.
Who'd have known that it would come to this. Here we are, nearly
thirty two years later and Uloff is out on the front lawn restraining
old man Beardoff, now in his late 90's, from throwing clumps of grass
at the windows.
Every single Thursday. Even when we're not having iced cones.
That man throws clumps. He's mad on clump throwing so he is.
So, anyway, don't pay him any attention. Just come right in ....
..... IT'S ICED CONE PARTY NIGHT, folks.