Icecream Boy and the Monk

This is a story written by my friend Tim Hildred. Tim's an interesting guy who is currently on an odyssey in Britain and he sends me things he writes to make me feel jealous of his talent...I think. Anyways, I thought I'd post it because it's a good read. Here it is...

looking up towards the top of the mountain lost in the coulds above him, the ice cream boy couldn't help but wonder if maybe someone was pulling his leg. the boys had told him about a monestary where he could make a mint, if he could just get there. as the ice cream boy was saving for a new bike, he'd jumped at the opportunity, and hadn't stopped to consider the mechanics of transporting frozen desserts up thousands of meters to monks on a mountain. but a hot tip was a hot tip, and if there was a mint to be made at altitude, he knew what he had to do. so he got on his bike, and started peddaling, his cargo bouncing ahead of him. he could see already that he was in for a long day. so the young man peddaled on, methodically, and after a while, began to look around him. it was a bright clear mountain morning, the pale sun shone through clouds like a zit through a pre-pubescent beard. sparrows whistled as he went by, and squirels shot shamelessly across his path now and again. a cool breeze touched the sweat on the boys brow, and reminded him that he was pedalling a bike with a small refrigerator attached to the front of it up a mountain, and would at some point he would need a break.
so the boy hopped off his entrepenurial mode of transportation, dipped into his livelyhood, and helped himself to a jumbo freezie. having cycled to a decent height, the boy looked out over the world, amazed at what he could see. off to his left, there was a small village, its people to small to be seen from this height, that none the less, buzzed with life. there was smoke from chimenies, carriages coming and going, tiny dots in the fields. off to the right wove a river, no more than a ribbon from where he was sitting, but from its shores a mighty flow. he could see it wink and sparkle from his pearch, flashing as it wove off into the distance. just then, the boy felt a sharp pain through his head and chest, and it seemed for a moment like he about to explode. a mental note was made that frozen juice should not be consumed while pondering lest brain freeze should set in, and the boy was on his way.

the morning had begun to turn into afternoon, and while the afternoon is usually the icecream boys time to shine, this ice cream boy was still without sale. onwards and upwards the dirt trail ran, so onwards and upwards the hopeful boy rode. soon enough it was mid afternoon, and the boy was tired again. he was about to hope off his bike when he hit a sitting, bald, robe-clad man. the boy hopped off his bike, terrified that he'd killed the poor fellow, his insurance didn't cover negligent driving. maybe they'd call this an act of god? it turned out though, that the monk was quite alright, just a little dazed. having no idea what else to do, the young and now quite worried man offered the monk an ice cream bar, one of the refreshing ones with vanilla in the middle and crunchy chocolate on the outside. the monk ate in contemplative silence, studying his food, relishing each bite. the boy, having just hit the poor man, could think of nothing to say, and just sat and watched. the monk finished, licked his lips, and thanked the boy. the boy, having had just been thanked for a head on collision, was humbled by the monks grace, and could only nod his head. the monk told him he, nor his monkly friends had anymoney to buy icecream from the boy.for this he was deeply sorry, but instead, the monk said, he could teach him a lesson. the boy was both dubious and disappointed, having probably just set a world record for greatest altitude achieved by an icecream salesperson, but being a well raised young man, agreed. the monk asked him to sit down, and try to clear his mind. so the boy sat, crossed his legs, and tried to think of nothing. the monk asked the boy to breath with him, in slowly, out slowly, repeat. soon the boy was relaxed, peaceful, sat between a monk and an icecream cart midway up a mountain. as he breathed, this seemed less and less unnatural to the boy. now that the boy was relaxed, the priest asked him to think of something happy, something he truly enjoyed. one might think that an icecream boy would get tired of icecream, but this was hardly the case. the first thing that lept into the young man's mind was chocolate icecream. the richness of it, the sweetness of it, the coolness of it, in the boys mind it was the closest thing on earth to perfection. he figured if God ever cut loose and had dessert, chances were it was chocolate ice cream.

the monk looked on the boy, his face lit up with a smile, his body relaxed and serene. he asked the boy to concentrate on this thought, and tell him what he was thinking of. the monk was a little confused, he'd been thinking that an icecream boy would be sick of icecream. silently, the monk stood up, and as only monks can, went over to the cart, and found the object of the boys happiness. good heavens, this is overpriced, no wonder its so special to the young man. seems like swiss icecream can be priced like swiss watches and people still buy it! silently he sat back down, opened the ice cream, and waited. he asked the boy to open his mouth. the boy looked a little worried, but decided he could probably trust this bald little fat man, and slightly parted his lips. the monk spooned the tiniest taste onto the boys awaiting tongue. the boys eyes stayed closed, but his whole face was the picture of pure delight. the monk asked the boy to open his eyes and listen. he told the boy that this feeling of bliss, this joy was not coming from the ice cream, but rather through the icecream from something deeper. the boys young eyes seemed to understand. the monk continued. this joy could be found in all things, in all people. one simply had to become better tuned to finding it. the boy nodded, and the smile stayed on his face. he took the spoon from the monks hand, filled it with slightly melty chocolate, and filled the priests shocked but smiling mouth. the boy thanked the priest, and the priest thanked the boy. they parted ways, the priest back up towards his mountain solace now cool and refreshed, the boy back to his valley home now thoughtful and happy. the boy shook his head, not quite sure what to make of his day. he'd not earned a penny for all that hard work, but even so didn't feel really let down. the sun was setting, and the landscape was glazed over with a warm, hazy blur, the colours all running a little bit. the boy, now armed with the knowledge that life was beautiful, couldn't help but feel like he was in a painting.