An act of folly towards the poor ice lolly by Grant Harbison

“Are you a Dropsicle?” asked the Popsicle with a smile.

“Yes, patronising Popsicle,” replied the Dropsicle. “Could you please help me up from the tile?”

“I’m afraid not. The tile looks rather icky and you look rather sticky.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake, I’m asking you please. I’m just a little grubby, you won’t catch a disease."

"I could pass you your stick. If you cling onto that it should do the trick.”

“Okay, Mr. Dapper, pass me the stick and I’ll also need my wrapper.”

“Bad news, young whippersnapper, I don’t say any trace of a wrapper. Perhaps it was thrown in a bin. Somewhat surprising considering the situation you’re in.”

“Look, would you stop taking the mick! Pass me my stick and make it quick!”

“Not sure now if I should. You are very insistent and extremely rude. I’m the Popsicle, you’re the Dropsicle and I didn’t fall off my stick after only one lick."

“I didn’t fall, I was shoved. I thought I was the flavour that everyone loved. Have I become such a bore? Is that why I was thrown to the floor?”

“Perhaps, young fellow. There seems to be a lesser demand for the plain orange or yellow. Now they are free to have their pick. They can have two or more flavours all on one stick. It is a shame what has happened to you; being tossed aside because of your hue. Hang on a bit and I’ll help you off the floor. I won’t ignore your dilemma anymore.”