Especially during times of tropical weather conditions.
"Hey Coop, these cubes are really cool!", a good buddy of mine and I were sitting outside, dans le petit Jardin {in the little garden}. A glass of water each, no beer this time, had send my last ones abroad. "It's going to be close to 40 degrees this week mate, did you hear? Late in the evening still going to be over 35..." Celsius that is, as we use that over here in Nederland (Europe). For Fahrenheit that would be somewhere between 95 and a 105. It might be interesting for those who wanted to go on a tropical holiday. Seems Oldambt is a place to be for a sunny summer vacation. "Not looking forward to it Broah.", I replied, as I am already feeling hot at 68 F, or 20 C. It must have been what Dante has been writing about in the first part of his 'Divine Comedy' series, titled 'Inferno". And I do tend to become quite cranky when those days last too long. Especially when I can get no sleep at night, because of the heat. Yes, I do tend to become more grumpy as years go by since I passed 50. Still have not bought a Harley though.
"Do ya fancy another round of municipality beer?", I asked, while my hand reached out to take his glass. But he shook his head and made an odd funny looking face. It seemed as if he was chewing on something. And the tapwater here in our region tends to be quite soft and very drinkable. It could be swallowed just like that. Had been warned about places where not to drink from the tapwater, at all. As that would be like playing Russian Roulette, or even worse. One would be running, just like that tapwater, for the toilet. Not over here though, hard to imagine that it would ever be like that, or had been not even that long ago. Guess the Nederish do have a thing with managing water. "Say, oumph ~tjok tjok~, Coop, ~slumpf tjok~ ~churmp slump tjok tjok~, these really are great, ~scrutch tjump stjok~" Apparently he was eating something quite tough to munch, but I had not put any snacks on the table yet.
"What are you eating Broah? Seems like a hard thing to chew to me.", I asked while I stood there looking at his face making all kinds of strange muscle moves. And his mouth was making all sorts of smacking and popping noises, while he really seemed to have a hard time getting the job done. He put up his hand, as to signal me to wait a bit, then spit out the content of his mouth into the glass. "Phew, these ice-cubes man, fantastic idea, always loved jelly bears, but I cannot seem to get these chopped down the hatch." And for a while I just stood there with my mouth open looking at him in total disbelief and then I said: "They are not made of eatable jelly man! It's made of plastic...!" Guess it was really time for me to put some snacks on the table, before he would start to look at my cats with a devilish looking hungry eye.
The tasty looking jelly ice-cubes.
Filtered photo cc-by-sa 
This story is part of 'The Coop Files' series, subsection 'Intermezzo'.
Edit: some errors solved and small text changes made.
