Shirley Boot approached the ice cream truck cautiously. “You’re not Lavern,” she says while walking up.
“And you’re not Shirley.” Shirley Boot looks down.
Dr. Ice Cream, as the many eyed being is calling herself now, serves Bendy a triple dip chocolate twirl. “So, there you go (!)”
Bendy gently but firmly grasps the loaded down cone with his metal claw and begins to gobble up. Soon he’ll have an ice cream headache, but that’s a worry for later. Cool, delicious triple dip twirl for now! Yum yum yum, nom nom nom.
“Heard you had quite the scare the other night,” the doctor says conversationally. “Thought Fisher ran off with a younger man on ya.”
“Woman, actually,” he manages between gobbles. “Yellow.”
Dr. I.C. stares at Bendy. “Racist?” she questions about him aloud.
“No… Lisa?” Dr. I.C. continues to stare, as if she can see his insides. Bendy then realizes she’s talking about him. “No, no, no,” he defends between nom nom noms. “*Actual* color. Cartoon color. And she’s got a missing yellow brother that I know on good word is still here… on the island. Just invisible to the eye unless you know *exactly* where to look.”
“Then he’s a butthole, an anus,” Dr. I.C. declares, thinking of the planet Uranus.
“He does have the degenerative male Smipsons gene,” Bendy offers, trying to excuse Bartholomew’s natural bastardliness a bit. Another delicious gob of triple dip slides down his gullet.
“Oh I think he has a choice,” counters Dr. I.C, wiping down the counter. “I see a lot. I know the ins and outs of people around here… people everywhere. He’s invisible because he’s a menace to societal law. Refuge. As bad as Big Red Butler if you ask me. Go ahead… ask me.”
Bendy takes 2 quick licks and does what Dr. I.C. requests. “Um, *is* he as bad as, er, Big Red Butler?”
“Yes. Now ask me something else. I have the answers to most everything if you pries around my corners.” Oh look, she then thought evily. What’s that just around the corner of my truck? Beyond the kiln mysteriously placed just in the way.