SM Gets Trolled in Real Life by her "Loving Cousins"

People always ask me what my worst memory is. Well, my worst memory was brought about by my supposedly "loving" cousins and one exceedingly cruel uncle of mine when I was eleven years old visiting my grandmother in a little neighborhood in Huntsville, Alabama.

This story really doesn't need any more introduction than that.

SM Gets Trolled in Real Life by her "Loving Cousins"

It was a crisp fall afternoon. The leaves had fallen, and my grandfather had slaved away to make perfect leaf piles in the yard, so of course my cousins and I showed our gratitude to him by taking flying leaps into them, scattering the leaves everywhere. I was happily tossing handfuls of dried-out maple leaves into the air like confetti when I heard the one sound that every child goes absolutely insane for--the sweet, harmonious tinkle of the fabled Ice Cream Truck.

"ICE CREAM!!!!!" I bellowed, running around in circles like a maniac. My cousins stopped throwing leaves at each other and cocked their heads, listening intently. I proceeded to burst in through the back door of my grandparents' house and run through the kitchen screaming "THE ICE CREAM TRUCK IS COMING! THE ICE CREAM TRUCK IS COMING!" Like a modern day Paul Revere until my dad finally caught me and handed me a five and told me to "share with my cousins."

I was ecstatic. I could hardly contain myself. The ice cream truck was coming. I ran back outside to where my cousins had resumed throwing leaves at each other.

"Hey guys!" I panted, extending my hand to show them the wealth I had accumulated. "Daddy gave me some money. We can all get ice cream when the truck pulls up."

My cousins exchanged blank looks. "What are you talking about?" They asked.

I rolled my eyes. Boys could be so difficult sometimes. "The ice cream truck, duh," I said. "Did you already forget about it that quick?"

My cousins shared another look. "What ice cream truck?" They asked quizzically.

"The one that--" I began, but I stopped short at the sound of the faint music-box melody drifting over to my ears again. "That one! That ice cream truck! Don't you hear it? It's getting closer!"

My cousins shook their heads. "We don't hear it, SM." they said, looking at me with slight concern. "Are you sure you hear one?"

"Yes!" I said impatiently. "Now come on, we have to go meet it at the bottom of the street!" I grabbed one of my cousin's arms and attempted to pull him with me.

He grabbed me with his free arm and held me back. "Come ON!" I insisted, but he shook his head.

"SM, I don't think there's an ice cream truck!" He said worriedly. I looked at my other cousin. He looked grim.

"What is your problem?!" I asked, completely bewildered. The tinkling music was getting louder by the minute. "You hear it, I know you hear it!"

My cousins shared a concerned look. "SM, there isn't any music. We don't hear an ice cream truck." They said, looking very upset. "Maybe you're too hot. Do you want to go inside?"

"No, I do not want to go inside!" I said angrily, jerking my hand out of their grasp. I realized my cousins were trying to play some sort of trick on me to make me think that I was going crazy. This irritated me, so I threw out the biggest ultimatum any kid at that age could possibly muster: "If you want to keep playing this crazy game, then fine. I will spend all the money on myself and that means more ice cream for me."

Contrary to the immediate apologies and groveling I expected from my cousins, however, I was only met with an extremely worried look. I stood, bewildered, at my cousins' reactions. It wasn't like them to keep a joke going this long even under threat of no ice cream...

The music was so loud now that I was sure the ice cream truck would be at my grandparents' driveway in minutes. "Listen!" I said urgently, dragging my cousins over to the side yard. "I know you can hear that!"

"We've got to get her inside," One of my cousins said to the other in a scared voice. "She's really losing it. Do you think it's a heat stroke?"

"I don't know," The other one said darkly. "Maybe she's got a fever and is delirious. Get her, let's get her inside."

For the first time, a feeling of fear started to rise in my chest. The way my cousins were talking about me indicated that there was something seriously wrong with me. Could it be that they weren't merely playing a joke on me and there actually WAS a problem? While I was debating this possibility, I saw my uncle's car pull into the bottom of the driveway, and immediately behind him followed... THE ICE CREAM TRUCK.

"IT'S REAL!" I shrieked, dashing towards the bottom of the driveway, waving my five dollar bill madly in the air. "I TOLD YOU! I KNEW YOU WERE JOKING!"

My uncle had started to climb out of his car and looked extremely confused as to why his young niece was dashing at him at full speed.

"GET OUT OF THE WAY, UNCLE!" I cried joyfully. "YOU'RE IN FRONT OF THE ICE CREAM TRUCK!"

A look of serious concern and shock appeared on my uncle's face as he looked straight at me, and without even turning around asked "What ice cream truck?"

I fell to the ground. That was it. I lost it. I was insane. My cousins were right, I had hallucinated the entire thing. I burst into tears right then and there, and instantly my uncle dropped to my side with "Ohhhhh, SM, S-baby, I'm so so sorry sweetie! It was a joke! I know it's there! It's really there! I was just teasing you! Oh poor baby..."

Turns out, my cousins had taken advantage of my sprint to the ice cream truck to make frantic motions behind my back towards my uncle who correctly interpreted their desperate signs to continue the joke. He played along with them at the last minute, but unfortunately, that was the straw that broke the camel's back. I was hysterical.

My uncle managed to calm me down long enough to buy me some ice cream, but even as I sat in the shadowy living room in my grandparents' house, my cousins knew the damage went too far. I was scarred. I sat motionless on the beige couch, licking my Batman Ice Cream unenthusiastically, a blank stare on my face. My reality had been shattered. Sure, I had the ice cream in my hands, but who's to say that it was real? How could I ever know if anything was real anymore? How could I ever be sure I wasn't just living in a delirious fantasy?

My cousins tried to get me to play Duck Hunt with them, but not even electronically massacring farm fowl could cheer me up. I was a ruined child. For the rest of my life, I would never REALLY be sure of reality.

Maybe I'm not really typing this right now. Maybe I'm really an 11-year-old in a straightjacket, rocking back and forth in a secure, padded facility somewhere chanting "The ice cream is coming... the ice cream is coming..."

Maybe YOU'RE not really reading this right now?? Hmm??? HMMM???