Mr Krock’s Shop

Mr Krock’s Shop

Me and Frank want ice cream. Cold and soft and scrummy. With sauce I guess. I like strawberry and Frank likes chocolate. We’re not actually allowed to go off down the street to Mr Krock’s shop, but we do it anyway. Mum doesn’t know. Frank says if we don’t tell her then it’s not a lie.
            Carefully, we lower our bodies down through to the ravine, holding our weight in our hands, and we are safe! The water is cool and fresh and I think even more about ice cream. Just as we are skipping along towards the tracks, Frank falls over and scrapes his knee.
            “Shush Frank,” I say, “Mr Krock will fix it up.” He gets on my back for the rest of the way. Clip Clop Frank and his pony all the way to the Ice cream shop.
            Mr Krock is really old, and kind of gray. He is wrinkly and thin. I think he’s a bit see through, like paper. He looks up as we enter the shop, so I quickly drop Frank from my back. He falls to the floor with a thump.
            “Look Mr Krock, I bloodied my knee,” my brother says proudly. Mr Krock smiles, coughs, and turns his head back to his paper. He looks a bit sad. Maybe something bad has happened in the newspaper today. Dad always says bad things about what he reads in the paper. I think he should just read a different one, but sometimes I think grownups like to make themselves feel bad or something.
            Franks grabs my attention by tugging at my sleeve, and points at the ice cream. There are so many flavours, and on top, bottles of sauce and a jar of flakes and a pot of all those sprinkly colourful things that taste nice. My heart drops. My pockets are empty. Then I get an idea – I nudge Frank, and nod my head at the sweets. Coconut Mushrooms, BonBons, Fizzy Cola Bottles, Lollypops and Crisps line the shelves. Chewy sweets, hard sweets, sour sweets, juicy sweets. Before I know what I’ve done, my hand has darted away from me, into a jar of Strawberry Creams. With a full fist and pounding ears, I grab Frank by the hand and tear from the shop, far away from Mr Krock. Frank looks up at me. He looks as sad as Mr Krock.
            “Eddie, you forgot the ice cream.”

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