Ben first saw it by pure accident. Usually he takes Colma Avenue to connect the never ending series of events in his life. But today there was road work, nothing but brake lights and shaking heads all the way down the line. He could see the dusty residue of a concrete saw turning the whole scene into some kind of apocalyptic snapshot. It could have been the heat that forced his hand to jerk the wheel, it might have been the dust, but regardless of what forced him from his familiar path it was a move that would permanently change his world.

The heat and dust combined with his broken AC created a lust in his throat he hadn’t felt since his childhood. Another red light, this one was a cyclops burning into his forehead, and that’s when he saw it. Floating above the above the fence like a crazy dream, a ceramic ice cream cone. It was exactly what he desired and there it was just sitting in the sky with a cherry on top. He lurched his beaten heap into the lot and now saw the device that held the cone on a pedestal. The Pedestal was a dilapitated old stand, barely big enough for two bodies to occupy simoutaneously. The roof was faded green, wooden shingles that reminded him of Snoopy’s dog house. Below that the body of the shack: faded pink with thin, dirty white trim. There was a window for ordering shaped like the silhouette of an ice-cream sundae. Above the window hung seperate letters spelling out a word that wouldn’t ever leave Ben’s head: UGLY’s. The lowercase “s” threw him the hardest, now he just had to see what the fuck this place was about. He slung the trannie into park and searched for an “Open” sign. Nothing in site. No sign of life either, no matter if he didn’t investigate it would eat him all day.

As he approached the spot he saw something dark and small move inside. Maybe ice-cream was in his future, and damnitt if he didn’t deserve it. “Hello”? More movement but no response. “Hey you open?” The figure remained hidden behind a stack of food supplies “Yeah, gimmie a second” the haggled voice of woman echoed. Ben’s heart raced as his mind began to explore every variety of ice-cream that ever touched his lips plus a few that hadn’t. Berry dream, Cinnibon, patato chip, Pesto, bubble-gum, red licorice, brandy, banana mousse, triple dark chip w/ five kinds of nuts, rasenberry, snauzeberry, fairy goo, golden prelains, cookie monster, blood orang- “What is it?” A voice came disintegrating his ice-cream dreams. Ben’s head whipped up to her, an older woman, or perhaps just old. She had matted hair, wrinkled puffy cheeks and a double chin. Her eyes still sparkled but she didn’t smile, nor frown. Ben wondered if this was Ugly? By all accounts she wasn’t gorgeous but at the same time wasn’t unpleasant enough to be called ugly, even when she wasn’t smiling. The whole thing was suprisingly perplexing. “Any special flavors today?” “We don’t do Kosher.” “I’m not Jewish. What’s your best flavor?” The woman began to wipe the counter with a dirty rag “Polish.” I’ve never tried polish ice-cream before, what’s it like?” She stopped mid wipe, a smile creeping along her mouth “we don’t serve ice-cream, haven’t in 12 years.” Ben’s dreams melted away from his soul. He took two big steps directly back and cracked his neck upward. “what the hell is that then?” “false advertising.” “Is this some trick? I totally had my heart set on an icy, creamy treat and now I’m lost.” “I’m totally upset about it, Ugly’s serves dogs, nothing else. Ask anyone in the neighborhood.” “shit.” Ben mumbled to himself. “What’s the matter, you don’t like dogs?” “I’m more of a cat person.” “Pussy.” “Excuse me?” “You’re a pussy lover.” “I’ve never heard it put quite that way before but, yeah I guess I am.” “what’s your cat’s name, or do you have more than one?” “Well, actually… I don’t have a cat.” “Now who’s false advertising?” “I don’t go around wearing a hat with a ceramic cat sitting on top.” “Maybe you should, you might actually get some.” “Oh, I get it, you’re ugly on the inside.” “With a hard chocolate shell, so you wanna suck on a dog or what? I’ll throw in a free lemonade, best on the block.” “That’s a safe bet, fine. Gimme’ a Polish with the works.” “One rumble fish for the sarcastic no pussy boy. Be up in 10.” “That’s a long time to wait for a meat product that’s pretty much ready to eat since it came into existence isn’t it?” “I said 10.”

Welcome to the meat market! How may we serve you?