Content: Implied TG/TF, weird.
Sequel to: https://tantabus.ai/images/26266 and https://tantabus.ai/images/12668

“Hold on, you’re talking really slowly,” Michael tried to say into the phone. “What do you mean the car won’t start? I’ve been waiting for over two hours… I think? Time is kinda feeling weird here, and the ice cream thing is getting… uh… different? Also, I think that clown cone is making lewd faces at me.” It seemed to take him longer than usual to reply to that one. “Yeah, the ones where the cone is like a hat and the muffin paper is like those neck things? What? Robbie is looking at the car? Oh great! Well, if you get here before the clown cone marries me and makes me its ice cream unicorn queen then I’ll be real impressed. Fine, whatever. Give me a call if Doctor Bumblefingers there manages to get the car started and I’ll ask the talking ice cream cone if it has any friends you can eat. Bye.”

“Rough day?” the clown cone asked in a burbling voice as it bloated up to the size of a volleyball and slithered across the counter, gumball eyes shifting around on its gelatinous surface.

“Well, let’s just say there’s an epidemic of dead cars going around,” Michael said as he slipped the phone into his purse, examining the delicate shade of polish that had appeared on his nails at some point.

“Sucks,” the giant clown cone commiserated. “So, guess you’re here for a while, huh?”

“Looks like. What’s your deal, by the way?” Michael asked, leaning back against the counter and trying to avoid any of the slithering piles of semi-frozen ooze that were crawling over it like oversized slugs, leaving trails of nonpareils in their wake.

“Oh you know,” the clown cone said, furrowing its gummy-worm brows. “Typical ice cream stuff. Being animated by eldritch forces beyond comprehension, hitting on the pretty customers…”

Michael couldn’t help but giggle. “I’ll bet you say that to all the gender-flipped unicorn gals.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” the clone cone admitted as its giant waffle cone hat slid down the back of its body and thudded hollowly against the countertop. “Helps that the owner puts addictive hallucinogens in us.”

“Aha!” Michael said, slamming one dainty fist into another dainty palm. “I knew it! Why else would I keep craving this ice cream when it does weird stuff every time I eat it?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” the living dessert said, pulling its hat back into an erect position. “At least we’re low-cal, though.”

“Really?” Michael asked with genuine surprise. “I didn’t taste any artificial sweeteners.”

“It’s the new stuff the boss man uses,” the clown cone continued, sidling up closer. “It’s got some side effects, like the whole reality-erosion thing, but it’s got net zero calories and a low glycemic index. Anyway, sounds like you’ve got some time to kill. Wanna hang out and talk about stuff?” it asked.

“Why not?” Michael replied, shrugging her shoulders and setting her purse on a stool beside her. “Beats staring at the space where the walls used to be…” She sighed, shifting her dress as it changed its cut once again and threatened to leave her exposed. “So…”

“So…” the clown cone replied.

“So…” Michael said again expectantly.

“Ever meet an ice cream cone that can lick back?” the frozen clown-shaped scoop asked, waggling its gummy-brows as it produced a tongue of semi-solid dessert roughly a foot long that dripped onto the glowing tile floor.

Michael snurked and rolled her eyes. “Getting fresh, huh?”

“We’re churned fresh every day,” the clown replied proudly. “Care for a demonstration?”

“Pass,” Michael said despite an amused smile. “By the way, you got any friends my ride can eat?”

“Well, if not then I know a way we can make more,” the clown said with a lewd grin.

“You’re going to do this the whole time, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Only until it works, babe!” the goofy frozen treat replied. “How’m I doing so far?”

“Getting colder,” she said.

“That’s good!” the clown cone replied. “Easier to convince you to be my ice cream unicorn queen if I can keep my cool, right?”

“Does the crown come with enormous executive power and unchecked authority over the ice cream peasants?” Michael asked.

“Well no, but it does come with a platinum membership card that’s good for two free regular cones or cups per month,” the clown code said.

“Hmmm, now I’m seriously tempted,” Michael said. To her surprise, she wasn’t even joking.