The search for Squeeze

I have a bad habit of making up odd names for things. Some years ago, we discovered here at the beach a small shop that sold Flavor Burst ice cream, which is basically soft-serve ice cream with jets of colored flavoring injected into it in lovely swirls. This particular shop had a huge machine, maybe a pair of them, that offered more than a dozen different flavors. We left the beach that year having consumed vast quantities of this tasty treat.

The next year, we returned full of anticipation for the same brightly colored swirls--and found the shop had closed.

Fortunately, the machine that made the ice cream popped up at a small restaurant called Softee Freeze, the very same place where I purchased Mr. Creepy Cone and first wore the Cone Man suit. Rather quickly, due to the bad habit I mentioned above, first the shop and then the concoction itself came to be known as Squeeze.

Last year, we once again arrived here ready to eat some Squeeze--and the Squeeze had closed.

This time, the machine appeared to split in half, each offering only a few flavors. We found one at a local putt-putt place, and the other half an hour away in what passes for the big town hereabouts.

After lunch today, we decided it was time to enjoy some coolicious Squeeze. We pointed the Prius at the putt-putt shop, only to learn it did not open until 4:00. Not to be deterred, we headed into town--and that remote Squeezepost had also closed.

We would not give up. We set out on Squeeze-quest 2011. We drove the length and breadth of both the town and the beach, but to no avail. As we hunted, research on the InterWebs confirmed that we could indeed purchase our very own Squeezebox for a mere $6K, a price that began to look more and more reasonable as we drove by one strange little business after another. In the end, though, we had to settle for soft-serve and the hope of late one afternoon finally realizing our Squeeze-alicious dreams.

We can only pray that next year, the Squeeze is still here.