BUTTER MY SCOTCH, PLEASE

There's some sort of conspiracy going on in the world of sweet treats. Trying to find a decent butterscotch shake is getting to be a challenge of monumental proportions, and I'm not happy about the situation.

I was in Pittsburg yesterday when the butterscotch shake urge overtook me, as it does about once a month. I knew not to even bother hitting up Dairy Queen or Sonic because for some reason that is beyond me and my persnickety taste buds, neither of them have my favorite ice cream downfall. Neither do Mickey D's or the other fast-food joints, and I wouldn't bother to check out Freddy's Frozen Cuss-Turd because my single visit there several years back was a disaster that I didn't even finish--and for me to throw away something sweet and creamy is strange, indeed.

I felt certain, however, that there was nothing to sweat because within two blocks of where I was staying in the 'burg, a Braum's was standing ready to save and serve me. But do you know what? Not even Braum's makes a buttershake shake!!! "The closest thing we have is a caramel shake," I was told by the wait-person. Good lord. The world must be coming to an end. Now, I'd have to wait all the way until I got to Fredonia for a butterscotch shake at the Tri-Mee Drive-In. Seventy whole miles! Could I last that long? Well, crap. I'd have to.

I put on my game face, told myself that I could live another 90 minutes without a butterscotch shake, and went on down the road. I was miserable the entire time, of course, but my spirits weren't totally shot since I knew the Tri-Mee would eventually be coming to my rescue. When I got into town, it wasn't quite 11 AM, opening time, so I sqaundered away 10 minutes or so at Mama Bore's empty house, which is just two blocks from Fredonia's famous burger and ice cream joint. I'd come this far. I wasn't going to give up now.

At last, the OPEN sign was glowing orange neon and the customers were starting to arrive. Oh, boy!! I was just second in line. "I'd like a small butterscotch shake," I said happily to the lady at the counter window. Man, just two more minutes and I'd be in butterscotch heaven!

And then she said something that shot my excitement all to hell. "I'm sorry, but our ice cream machine is broken."

What?? This can't be!! No ice cream?? The Tri-Mee was failing me at my time of desperate need?

"Oh," I said sadly back to her. "Well, that's all I wanted." I was a wounded bird, pathetic as I stood there a second longer, waiting for her to maybe say that she was just fooling me, and that she'd have that butterscotch shake to me in a flash. But she wasn't teasing, and I slumped back to my car, disappointed. When I got behind the steering wheel, I said aloud, "Well, I guess God is telling me that I don't need a butterscotch shake today." Likely a better reaction than bashing the wheel into the steering column, which was what I really wanted to do.

And, alas, that's the way my quest ended yesterday. Today I'm suffering from Butterscotch on the Brain and am already plotting when and where I will finally succeed. And don't tell me to just go to the grocery store and buy a gallon of vanilla ice cream and a bottle of butterscotch syrup and make my own shake. It wouldn't taste the same, plus I'd have the entire purchase eaten in a few days and then I'd feel guilty.

I think someone needs to shake some sense into me.