“It’ll crush it.” —Henry Rollins At half past midnight, Cora decided to start closing down the shop. She shut down the soda machine by unscrewing all the sticky knobs and throwing them into the dishwasher with the last of the spoons and saucers. She stacked the clean glass dishes up on the shelves while the remaining patrons—mostly pimply teenagers on Valentine’s Day dates—sucked up the last of their ice-cream sodas and fed each other final bites from banana splits. As she filled the mop... bucket in the back room, she heard the jingling of the door as a couple of patrons left the shop. Cora guessed their next stop would be the levy for some sweaty coupling in borrowed cars. Either that or chaste kisses on front porches under the eyes of shotgun-wielding fathers. Beyond that, there was not much to do in this little town. Besides beer parties out in the desert, the Oleander Ice Cream Parlor was the only place to hang out if you were underage.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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