The Bent Spoon vs.

The Halo Pub

Thank you for coming, have a nice day! The sole customer nonchalantly ate his ice
cream. It's rare to see a customer around these parts. No one around here wants to look like Paul
Bart. Ever since the 0 calorie, non dairy, gluten free, vegan, all natural, organic, non-processed,
made with love, homemade, locally sourced, pesticide free, fair trade, grass fed, free ranged,
ethically slaughtered (cows), subsistence farm sourced, co-op sold, ebola aware frozen yogurt
place The Bent Spoon opened up, no one wants our classic whole milk vanilla ice cream. We are
the Halo Pub. This is the story of how the Nassau Street rivalry went too far.
We were going through the roughest times. For a while, I thought that i shouldve just
given up, but my passion for the frozen milky desert never went away. I reduced prices, spent
days making new creative flavors, and doing blind tests where my ice cream won most of the
time, but it didnt matter. My ice cream didnt match the specification of the new age tumblr
vegans. I started doing things that I wasnt proud of, but it wasnt enough. They were short term
solutions to a long term problem. The problem had to be fixed at the source. The Bent Spoon had
to die. Either they ate my ice cream, or they didnt eat any at all. I pulled together all the money I
had, and I set out on my mission to destroy The Bent Spoon.
I started small. My plan was to sabotage the frozen yogurt itself. I employed the poor,
desperate students to spike them with syrup of ipecac, a harmless drug that induces vomiting.
This combined with a trending video about how much processing it takes to meet the tumblr
vegan specifications spiked sales to a whole new record. I almost had enough money to finally
kill The Bent Spoon. But unlike Bill Cosby, people learned about the druggings too soon. One of
my students got caught. It wasnt enough to charge me, and all the blame was put on the student,
but like an accused rapist, the damage to my career had been done before court. People slowly

went back out of pity. Business wasnt as slow as before the spike, but it definitely took a dip.
The worst part of it wasnt the money, it was the declaration of war. I had just sunk the Lusitania,
bombed his Pearl Harbor, screwed with his towers, and supplied Tecumseh with weapons of
mass vomiting. Propaganda from both our store and his went rampant, we both hired guards and
employed a 24/7 nurse to attend to anyone who was affected in our meaningless war, for the ones
hurt the most were the innocent, who had nothing to do with this. Hell, they were just trying to
eat ice cream, but in my blind rage I didnt care, and he sure as hell didnt. Nothing much was
known about him, but from the press, he was a young, ambitious, Princeton graduate. I was
going to have to be smarter than him. The real test will come when he retaliates.
It came on a casual Sunday morning, where he knew I would be most off guard. After all,
the shop had never been opened on a Sunday before. 2 unidentified men in ski masks with
assault rifles and kevlar suits completely destroy the shop. 2 of my employees were killed. By
the time I got there, the only thing left was a cup of frozen yogurt. I reported it to the police and
tried to explain everything, but they just laughed and gave me the money for the insurance. The
Bent Spoon was now operating at a near monopoly, and by the time my business was back as
usual, not many people came. The Halo Pub had hired guards in their shop as to protect from
the evils that operated against a friendly competitor, but I knew the real reason. As far as the
public was concerned, any attacks on Princeton shops were terrorist attacks, but The Bent Spoon
had money. They have a monopoly on frozen goods that expanded into the entire state. Rumor
has it that he was in deep with the mobs and police. Ice cream was no longer his most lucrative
business. He can infest the other cities with his shady business practices, but he wont in my
hometown. I didnt have the resources of The Bent Spoon, but I had myself, and a minority of

Princeton residents. A pack of untrained amateurs with less than ideal equipment vs the mob of
New Jersey. Princeton will become ours.
Most didnt support me for my views. I had done some nasty things as well, I was just the
lesser of 2 evils. What happens when we take them down, what will you do to help our city?
Why should we trust you. The crowd of students started murmuring in agreement. Im finished
with this life. I will put aside my personal ambitions and pass the shop on to the people. The
fighting created innocent casualties in the war for the best frozen dessert. Is it worth it? Is it
worth for the families of the dead employees, on both sides? Tell the families of the dead of the
corruption in the city and the only thing theyll think of is their dead. Subsidiaries and holdings
of The Bent Spoon and The Halo Pub will be divided up equally to all, the person to capture the
owner of The Bent Spoon will be my successor. If you fight amongst each other for power it will
only end with a weaker Halo Pub. Dont make the same mistakes I did. As for the rest of you, do
this for the later generations. You will be forgotten, or worse, remembered for violence from the
writers of history, but you will have made a positive impact for humanity. FOR ICE CREAM I
yelled into the crowd. The crowd chanted FOR ICE CREAM several times before loading up
in their Toyotas and Hondas, prepared to fight armored trucks and vans. It was the most cliche
real life scenario ive ever seen, but it worked.

We couldnt do it alone, the Pirus and Crips, despite their differences, have wanted to get
rid of the Italians for a while now, and now they have their chance. We had numbers, but they
had money. Aks were the best weapon for the job. They were reliable, easy to maintain,
relatively cheap, and relatively accurate. Most of the guys also wore a kevlar vest, but that was
the end of it. We didnt have snipers patrolling like they did, we didnt have their armored

cadillacs, we didnt have their drones, nor their night vision, but it didnt matter. Theres way too
many of us.
We were all living in an abandoned warehouse. no one knew of our existence, so we
decided to strike at night in surprise. All I needed were 10 good men. We set charges on their
trucks, doors, and their ammo room. We waited for the rest to come while we tried to take out all
the snipers and special weapon guards 007 style. When the guards tried to deploy, we detonated
and The Bent Spoon flew sky high. This wasnt some 2 person raid with windows destroyed
from a couple guns. They got a taste of their own medicine 10x over. This is the part where I tell
you how empty I felt after having revenge, but truth be told it was the most satisfying thing Ive
ever done. We cleared out before the cops came, but not before executing every single person
affiliated with the mob. It was a gruesome thing to do but I had to do it to get rid of the mob. The
Italians wont find it worth it to take such a rich city again. We grabbed a ton of money and just
left before the cops came. In the end it didnt really matter though, sales were stabilized. People
were scared to bring their children into these places after the attacks, but the fear mongering
eventually stopped.

We held monthly board meetings that I could still participate in. I gave up the business
but I was still a board member. I still had a large portion of say, considering the history. We grew
to the size of the Italians within a few years with the amount of capital we had left over after
battle. We were to Princeton what the DuPonts were to Delaware, we were no longer just an ice
cream shop. I tried to stop it, but they always had majority votes. They started becoming The
Bent Spoon. I was so disappointed.
We were having another board meeting. My successor, the only one trying to calm
expansion, introduced a proposal. That proposal was to kill me. I didnt know it at the time, but

when I entered our HQ, a group of board members would attack me outside. In broad daylight,
they started gunning me down. I fought for a while, with no hope of the police, our company was
in too deep. But then I saw him, I saw my successor, my protege, my son. I put my hands in the
air and walked up, but it didnt matter. They kept shooting, he just watched.
My funeral was pretty standard. Even though they disagreed with me they still respected
me. They knew my death was necessary, not deserved. They needed a unanimous vote. They
were going to join the Italians. I knew they would never last. This is my story, and the moral of
the story is.

People suck