Pool_1

>> Mr. Aver <<

With no regard to the menacing look of the cyclone gates crowned in twisted wire designed to maim, the Piper truck drew slowly, very slowly, up the long drive decorated equally with waste paper and wild hyacinth, toward the guard house ahead, avoiding the many small children who froze in bewilderment at its sight. They've never seen an ice cream truck! Marcus was fascinated by this sudden insight, yet, somehow, not surprised. Like a motor boat in a sea of bewilderment, the Piper was leaving a wake of confusion behind, with white caps of wide open eyes and pointing fingers. Fascinating. But, fascination yielded to alarm, stopping at the top of the incline nearly adjacent the guard house, just outside the fenced swimming area. This berth, selected in the same haste as Custer selecting HIS last stand, was the convergence point of a sudden tumult of bodies - all black - all confusedly curious - all crushing in, one upon the other in pandemonium. The refrigeration compartment travel locks were still in place! Thank goodness! Kids were climbing into the truck and onto the front compressor, over his lap - some yelling "Ajax. Ajax. Hey mister Ajax! You got ice cream? This a ice cream truck?" It took a moment to remember that a large blue AJAX was printed on his uniform's left rear pants pocket followed by Laundry in smaller print harder to see. Only occasional bursts of jingles escaped from the row of bells above the windshield, the rest muffled by the increasing swell of bodies standing on the hood. 'Hey AJAX, why you come here, you a bone head?" was just one of the zillion questions avalanching in through the doorless open truck. It was one of the few