Of course happiness came in cold waxed cartons. Was there any purer form? It was doubtful given the contents of this particular ice cream. As the night wore on, only a soup of tart orange and smooth vanilla was left behind.
Soon though that smooth surface was broken by a pointed hat top by a whipped cream puff that swirled about like a shark fin. Shortly thereafter, the wearer appeared, smiling brightly under his short orange locks. This place looked like fun and Creamsicle began giggling at that thought.
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Creamsicle has become a Baby!

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