"That's absolutely unreasonable," Mrs. Mulchahy was telling her son.
"How?" asked Scooter.
"Because," she said. "You can get a job at any ice cream shop in Ireland. Why would you go to work at one all the way in Australia?"
"Because it's my dream," answered Scooter, who was throwing a tantrum.
"Oh? And why does it have to be in Australia?"
"I have my reasons," said Scooter. Mrs. Mulchahy rolled her eyes. Scooter's "reasons" rarely made anything even remotely resembling sense.
"And what might those reasons be?"
"In Australia, they have ice cream made out of poisonous snakes and spiders," said Scooter knowingly. "I'm bored of ice cream made out of plain, boring ingredients."
Of course, his mother didn't think this was justifiable reason enough, so Scooter did a thing he knew would be infallible.
"Dad!" he said. "Can I go to Australia to work at an ice cream shop?"
"Sure!" said his dad. "If you get me some ice cubes for my drink."
Scooter returned with the ice cubes, but by then his mother had had time to convince him that ice cubes and Australia were not equal. Scooter realized he would have to come up with a better plan, but only knew of one solution: to walk to Australia himself.
But as he was walking he came to the ocean. Scooter was shocked to learn that his country was, in fact, an island. He decided to walk home and think of a better plan.
On his way back he bumped into a talking pig. "I know how you can get to Australia," it said.
"How do you know I was trying to get to Australia?" asked Scooter, who instinctively put his hands over his brain.
The pig pulled out a pair of wings. "You can use these," he said.
Scooter looked at the wings horrifiedly.
"I can't use wings," he said. "I'm not a girl, and I will look like a fool if I wear them."
It reminded Scooter of a saying his great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great grandfather used to say:
"Tis better to be a girl than a boy, since girls can do boy and girl things without looking dumb, but boys can only do boy things."
"Well then," said the pig. "You can use this helicopter instead." And he proceeded to pull one out of his pocket. He failed to supply a pilot, and Scooter found himself flying through the sky by himself in a storm. Finally, he crashed to the ground.
"Is this Australia?" he asked the first person he saw walking by.
"Australia...? Why... Yes..." answered a suspicious looking man in a turban. "As a matter of fact, this is Australia..."
"Oh, thank you!" Scooter exclaimed in joy. "Can you tell me, are there any ice cream shops near by?"
The mysterious man laughed. "Ice cream shops? Of course... I will tell you where, if you do something for me."
"Certainly!" said Scooter, bowing down. "Anything!"
"I need you to rob that bank for me."
"That sounds reasonable," agreed Scooter. "I really appreciate your help!"
Scooter changed his mind about his appreciation when there were bars being slammed in front of his face.
"You can't do this!" Scooter cried. "I came all the way to Australia to work at an ice cream shop (it's my dream) and now I'm locked in prison?"
"Australia?" asked the man who had locked him away. "This isn't Australia." And he went away mumbling about raging lunatics.
Scooter stayed in prison for many days, and watched longingly from his window as little girls and boys raced passed playing frisbee.
Then one day, something happened that changed everything. It was when a bear statue blew through the window, on a day that was very stormy indeed.
"Throw me back into the storm and I will help you," it said.
"Throw you back into the storm? But, sir," protested Scooter. "Why? It's dangerous out there."
"Do it," commanded the bear. "It does not matter... You see, I cannot get hurt. I am already dead." It was then that he raised a paw and wiped the paint off his eyes, revealing two X's.
"Now, release me into the wind!"
Scooter did, without a second glance.
The bear statue was whipped away quicker than a paper cut. It rolled over a cliff and crashed into the sea, where it became old and moldy, and the mockery of many a passing fish. But a kind deed it was, on Scooter's part. And kind deeds never go unrewarded.
A wind from the East floated over the ocean, wrapping around Scooter. It broke through the jail wall (only hurting Scooter a wee little teeny tiny bit) and then flung him across the sea. He landed face first in an ice cream shop.
"Is this Australia...?" asked Scooter again, thinking it was too good to be true.
"Yes, Scooter. This is indeed Australia," said the wind, and left to go make itself a cup of tea.
Scooter did three dances of happiness, and only crashed into four old people at the glorious news.
"My dream has come true!" he sang, and began whistling a merry tune.
It was not long before he found himself standing behind the counter, serving ice cream to customers.
"Excuse me, sir," he chuckled one day, when he caught his boss. "I don't mean to bother you, but I just thought I should point out your little mistake,"
"Yes?" asked his boss, adjusting his red clown nose.
"You forgot to order the poison kind of ice cream," he reminded helpfully.
"Poison ice cream?" asked his boss.
"Yes, you know. The kind made out of poisonous snakes and spiders!"
"We don't have any such ice cream in Australia!" said his boss, laughing in Scooter's face.
"No poisonous ice cream?" asked Scooter. "No poisonous ice cream?" And, just like that, Scooter's dream was shattered, and he realized he had made a huge mistake.
"I was such a fool," cried Scooter in distress.
"Well, if you want poisonous ice cream so bad, you could make it yourself," said his boss, eager to get rid of him. "There are lots of snakes and spiders you can catch yourself!"
"You're right!" exclaimed Scooter. "Thank you, sir! Thank you very much! I will do that!" And with that, he slammed the door in the man's face and set out to fulfill his new dream.
This tale is surely a lesson in the foolishness of one who easily gives up on their dream. For if we all gave up when we were told there are no poisonous spiders in ice cream, such things would never come to be invented. And none of us would be any better off at all, for that.
The End.
