I don’t believe in ice cream.

“But… but… what about chocolate?!” you ask.

Doesn’t matter. I don’t believe in ice cream like I don’t believe in loofahs.

Come again? From the shower? Made of gourds? Like a sponge?

         I say this scratching my succulent skin on the verge of Baskin Robbinses.

No, I don’t make sense, so stop pretending that I do, Alice!

We’re all a bit human said the Jabberwock, a cat, after all.

We’re all a bad mad, and I don’t believe in ice cream, oh well, says Joyce.

I’ll have that tea now, if you please. Half a cup.