Screaming for a Love-Bite

A waffle sat on the grill a long time. Couldn’t decide which way to turn. So turned crispy. This isn’t the end of a sad story. It was worked into the shape of a cone. Which was its burial preference. And ice cream was placed atop. Ceremonially.
And we sing the birthday song. Now.
And then this kid. Who got drug here because he’s “too old for birthdays.” Grimaced and looked at the cone. An ungrateful child of 12. 2 good for sprinkles. That was the waffle’s name. I know it don’t add up. It’s a cold ending. But I like 2 think it has some of the ol’ 1-2 punch.

I am new to transcribing my dreams and could use all the help I can get, said the Emperor of ice cream.
So it’s a dream job, the kid said.
He’s a smart kid, said the emperor.
Thanks, said the smart kid.
I don’t like smart kids. Said the emperor.
Cut down by standards and practices.

The absolute ruler of the kingdom of mathematics is the imperial ruler. Who is diametrically opposed to any alternative mathematical measuring system. Which shall go Un-named. Because they are incompatible. To the system.
The rebellion was a revolting situation.