Tom Cruise walked into the ice cream shop with his hands in his pockets. You always see these gay guys walking around with their hands out of their pockets, hanging by their sides or something. They’re all like, Ooh, I’m a pretty lady, I don’t put my hands in my pockets because they are lady hands. Well Tom Cruise walked around with his hands in his pockets to let everyone know that these hands only liked touching human women. Tom Cruise loved human women and he would have sexual intercourse with one some day, just to show everyone. He walked right up to the ice cream counter and he paused for a second, kind of pushing his crotch out, just a little, just enough subtle movement just to capture the eye and then what would the eye see? Hands in pockets. Straight man hands.
“One ice cream please,” Tom Cruise said. “Just in case there aren’t any gay people in here.”
The acne-inflicted young man behind the counter stared at Tom Cruise. “What flavor of ice cream would you like, sir?” Of course he recognized Tom Cruise, but his manager had been very serious about referring to all customers by “sir” or “ma’am,” after a particularly embarrassing incident in which Morgan Freeman had walked into the ice cream shop and an employee asked “what would you like, Mr. Sharpton?”
Tom Cruise took his hands out of his pockets and put them on his hips. He stood there for a long time, hands perched gently on his hips like birds. He stuck his tongue out of his mouth and licked all around his lips. Would a gay person do that? He laughed loud and hard.
“HAHAHAHHAHA,” laughed Tom Cruise.
The young man behind the counter began to feel very nervous.
“Well,” Tom Cruise finally said, “what is your least gay flavor?”
“Our least gay flavor?”
Tom Cruise looked the boy up and down. Again and again. Men sized each other up all the time in case they ever needed to fight. He sized up the boy’s crotch and his butt. Tom Cruise made kissy faces at the young man to intimidate him. “Well,” Tom Cruise said, “let’s say that a bus pulled up outside, a bright pink gay bus from gay town, and all the gays came out and they came into your store, and before you could escape, they began to order gay flavors of ice cream. What flavor do you think these guys would order?”
The boy was a junior in high school. In a couple of years he would leave for college, and the freedom of a self-actualized life. He didn’t get along with his father, and his mother was smothering. The job at the ice cream shop was his parents’ idea. They insisted it would build character, but he didn’t see how.
“I don’t know,” the boy said. “Butter pecan? I don’t know. What are you talking about?”
“Well then I definitely do not want any butter pecan ice cream, YUCK.” Tom Cruise stuck is tongue out like he was gagging on something that tasted horrible. He did this for a long time. A woman standing behind Tom Cruise noticed what he was doing with his face. She looked horrified. Tom Cruise turned around and faced her, his face still spasming for a moment and then growing still. “What are you looking at, you gay guy?”
The woman put a hand to her chest, but she actually smiled at the absurdity of the situation. “I’m sorry, Tom Cruise,” she said, “and no offense to gay people, but how am I, a middle aged married woman with three children, a gay guy? I genuinely don’t understand.”
“Oh look everyone,” Tom cruise announced to the store, “a retarded gay guy! Well let me explain something to you Special Olympics of Gay Sex Gold Medalist, you are a gay guy because you are a guy who has sex with other guys. Haha. Gross. Duh. Get away from me.”
The woman, laughing, took a photo of Tom Cruise on her cell phone and left the store.
Tom Cruise turned back to the counter. “This is tough,” he whispered to the boy. “This is very very hard. Do you know what I mean? When something gets so hard it’s almost painful?” The boy excused himself claiming that he needed to get a fresh ice cream scoop from the basement, and disappeared. A few minutes later, the manager appeared. The boy stayed in the basement for a half an hour until he felt certain that Tom Cruise was gone.
“What can I get for you, sir?” the manager asked.
“Well for one, you can get your gay eyes off of me,” Tom Cruise said, staring at the man’s crotch. “I can see you staring at my crotch. Not going to happen, buddy! Hands off! This crotch is for human women only who I will have sex with one day and then you’ll see.”
The manager was going to avert his eyes to satisfy his customer, but Tom Cruise did not stop staring at the manager’s crotch, and so he wouldn’t be able to tell if the manager averted his eyes anyway. “OK,” the manager said, “i am turning my gay eyes away from you now, sir,” the manager said, looking at Tom Cruise in disbelief. Tom Cruise did not take his eyes away from the manager’s crotch. “Now, can I interest you in any ice cream today?”
Tom Cruise blew air out of his mouth and made kissy faces at the manager’s crotch, to threaten it. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, “just give me two balls of cum-flavored ice cream in a dick. I MEAN A CONE. I’m gay.”