Well we have exciting news this month! Something we have been dreaming about and hoping for since, well even before we got married. The kind of thing that seems to rarely happen that it surprises you when it happens to you. Yes, that’s right. I’m sure you’ve guessed by now. We finally got our own Ice Cream Scoop of Death.

For those of you who are not familiar with my unique naming system, an Ice Cream Scoop of Death is what I call an ice cream scoop that actually works. 

Let me explain. 

A Regular Ice Cream Scoop is curved deeply like a bowl with the obvious intention of trying to make it as difficult as possible to get any ice cream into your bowl. Of course, the manufacturers never admit this. No, they try to explain it away by saying the curved shape is there to make the nice ball shapes that you can stack onto your cone. Never mind the fact that I don’t eat ice cream on a cone, I eat it from a bowl like God intended. If God had intended people to eat ice cream on a cone he would make Drumsticks grow on trees. And I don’t even want to get into the difference between round and rectangular half-gallon ice cream containers. But I digress. Where was I? Oh yeah, ice cream scoops. Have you ever noticed that the most advanced features of Regular Ice Cream Scoops involve how to get the ice cream out of the scoop? There is the little thumb controlled wiper blade that scrapes the ice cream out of the bowl of the scoop or other similar type mechanism. But have they ever given a thought as to how difficult it is to get the ice cream into the scoop in the first place? Being bowl shaped, it requires a pulling motion, which numerous scientific studies have shown that I find strenuous and difficult. Often I’ll end up just eating straight from the container to avoid using a less effective scoop. Either that or I’m too lazy to get out a bowl from the cupboard but scientific studies have so far been inconclusive on that point.

So what is an Ice Cream Scoop of Death, you wonder? Well, it is shaped more like a garden shovel except the front end is flat instead of pointed, but which makes scooping ice cream as easy as digging in the back yard. It also is all one piece so the handle will never break off or become loose. (And none of this thumb bicycle-bell lever thingy nonsense.) An official Ice Cream Scoop of Death is capable of serving up an entire bowl of ice cream in as little as three scoops (compared with five scoops from a normal oversized Regular Ice Cream Scoop). And since each scoop takes on average two seconds less time, you can be enjoying your bowl of ice cream that much sooner.

Now many of you are wondering why I am so surprised at finally getting one. “Just go down to the store and buy one you fool!” you are yelling at the computer now. Well, shows how much you know. They are not sold in stores. At least not any of the stores I’ve ever briefly glanced through. So how do I even know they exist, you wonder? Easy. My mom has one. But don’t try to ask her where she got it. Any time I’ve tried she just gets defensive and says, “Oh, a friend gave it to me.”

Uh-huh. A likely story. 

Well, I managed to track down this “friend” and asked her where she bought it. Here is her story:

Many years ago, she was on vacation and was driving through New Mexico. There must have been a really bad accident up ahead because the traffic was stopped and backed up for miles. It must have been really serious because there were a lot of federal agents and National Guardsmen in the area. It seemed like they were never going to move when she say two guys going from car to car. “Probably telling everyone what’s going on,” she thought. Looking closely she could see it was a white guy and a black guy, both wearing dark suits and dark sunglasses and it looked like they were holding up a ball point pen in front of everyone’s face. The cars still did not seem to be moving and she thought this was getting a bit silly so she got out of the car and walked a short distance off the road. It was nothing but desert in this area. Not much to look at. Then she saw something metallic on the ground and picked it up. It looked like a one-piece garden shovel except the front edge was flat instead of pointed. She didn’t know what to do with it but kept it and went back to the car. The men in black had already passed their car and she asked her husband what they had said but he couldn’t remember. In fact, when questioned later he couldn’t even remember anything about that vacation. Anyway, the traffic finally started to move and she caught a glimpse of the name of the town:

 Roswell. 

“Remind me never to drive through here again,” she told herself. When she got home she discovered the metal thing she had found worked really well scooping ice cream. It was only later when several federal agents kept stalking her and asking about it that she gave it to my mom and told her never to tell anyone about it. I’m not sure what all the secrecy was about but my guess is it has something to do with tax evasion. It’s probably been taken care of by now so that’s why she was able to tell me.

So if they are not sold in stores, how did I get one, you wonder? Funny you should bring that up. I happen to have a client who runs a Cold Stone Creamery ice cream shop. To celebrate me finishing the CPA exam we went to her shop for some ice cream. At Cold Stone, in case you’ve never been to one, they take some ice cream and mix it with whatever toppings you like on this cold, stone-looking counter. Then they put it all into a bowl, they way god intended. But it was as they were mixing the toppings with the ice cream that I noticed they were using one piece garden shovel shaped ice cream scoops with a flat edge on the front!

“Where did you get those?” I ask, astonished.

“The Gummy worms?” the lady behind the counter asked (my client wasn’t in that night, in case you were wondering). “We get those from the candy store.”

“No. Those Ice Cream Scoops of Death! Where can I get one like that?” I plead.

The lady looks at the scoops as if she had never noticed they were different from a Regular Ice Cream Scoop before. “I don’t know. My manager gets them from somewhere I guess.” Uh-huh. A likely story.

So I asked my client later when I spoke with her where she gets them and if I could buy one off of her. She told me that she gets them from a secret supplier, some guy down in New Mexico. Federal law prohibits the sale of them in stores, she informs me. It seems the Regular Ice Cream Scoop lobby has been petitioning Congress for years to make it almost impossible to buy anything other that a less effective Regular Ice Cream Scoop. Government in action, isn’t it surprising. Anyway, she tells me if I meet her at a certain park just before midnight that she’ll sell me one. I meet her as agreed and she gives me a box containing my very own Ice Cream Scoop of Death! I feel so happy I don’t know what to say. She just warns me never to tell anyone where I got it from.

Oh yeah. I shouldn’t have told you all that. Forget everything I told you up until now.

Sorry this has taken so long, but well, it was kind of exciting to me. MaeLyn says I shouldn't get so worked up about ice cream. Perhaps she's right. I think I'll just go lie down right now and relax. And maybe I'll scoop up myself a bowl of ice cream.

Click here to read the Top Secret Correspondence sent in by an FBI agent who read this story.
Click here to View the Actual Unidentified Object sent in with the Top Secret Correspondence
Click here to see the Original Ice Cream Scoop of Death.