The Next Scoop: The Sundae Inferno
The tension in Satan’s backyard was thicker than molten lava cake. Contestants lined up for the Sundae Speed Challenge, each clutching their ingredients like weapons in a dessert duel. Satan, still rocking his "WORLD'S BEST DAD" apron, waved a pitchfork dramatically to silence the crowd.
Satan: (grinning devilishly) “Alright, you miserable mortals and infernal fiends, here are the rules: you’ve got two minutes to craft a sundae so sinful, so diabolical, that even Heaven won’t know what to do with it. The winner gets an express pass out of hell—non-refundable, non-transferable, and no backsies! On my count: three… two… BURN!”
A hellish gong sounded, and chaos erupted.
Contestant #1: Estelle Costanza
Estelle dove headfirst into the sundae-making station, her hands a blur of chaos. She grabbed chocolate fudge, caramel, sprinkles, and what appeared to be candied shards of broken dreams.
Estelle: (screaming at Frank, who was spectating miserably) “Frank! Pass me the damned cherries! The ones soaked in despair!”
Frank: (holding a jar of ominously glowing cherries) “What’s the point, Estelle? You think you’re going to out-sin these demons? You’ve never even jaywalked!”
Estelle: (grabs the jar violently) “I jaywalked once in 1978, Frank! AND I DIDN’T FEEL BAD!”
Frank muttered something about Estelle being her own circle of hell and stomped off to sulk by the grill.
Contestant #2: Donald the Orangutan
Donald took a more... avant-garde approach. He dumped a gallon of orange sherbet into a bowl, smoothed it into a weird comb-over shape, and sprayed it with gold glitter.
Donald the Orangutan: (yelling over his shoulder) “This is going to be the greatest sundae anyone’s ever seen. Everyone’s talking about it. People love my sundaes. They’re the classiest. Satan’s going to beg me to open a chain down here!”
He garnished the monstrosity with tiny American flags made of licorice and stepped back, admiring his creation. The crowd looked horrified.
Contestant #3: Zoot
Zoot approached the challenge with her usual giggling zeal. She piled her bowl high with scoops of ice cream, then lit each one on fire like mini volcanoes.
Zoot: (grinning, holding up a canister of whipped cream) “Oh, this is going to be naughty. Whipped cream for everyone!”
She sprayed whipped cream not just on her sundae but into the mouths of bystanders, onto the grill, and even onto Satan’s horns.
Satan: (wiping whipped cream off his face) “Zoot, darling, I said sinful, not wasteful!”
Zoot: (giggling uncontrollably) “Is there a difference?”
Wildcard Entry: Frigidor Dalek
Frigidor Dalek hadn’t been on the official list of contestants, but that didn’t stop him from rolling up to the table.
Frigidor Dalek: (monotone voice) “I SHALL CREATE A SURREALIST SUNDAE. EXTERMINATE EXPECTATIONS.”
The Dalek used its plunger arm to sculpt a Salvador Dalí-esque sundae, complete with melting clock-shaped wafers and a drizzle of existential dread. It was hauntingly beautiful.
Judging Time
As the timer hit zero, Satan inspected each creation with the meticulousness of a Michelin-starred chef who also happens to be the Prince of Darkness.
He first examined Estelle’s sundae.
Satan: (nodding approvingly) “Hmm, despair cherries… an undercurrent of guilt… and just a hint of resentment. Very nice, Estelle. But it’s missing… malice.”
Estelle glared at Frank.
Estelle: “Give me five more minutes and a spatula, and I’ll add some!”
Next was Donald’s glitter-bombed monstrosity.
Satan: (staring at the orange sherbet comb-over) “This isn’t a sundae; it’s a cry for help.”
Donald the Orangutan: (huffing) “Fake news! That sundae is perfect!”
Then came Zoot’s flaming volcano masterpiece.
Satan: (tasting a charred scoop) “Spicy. Chaotic. But it lacks depth. Did you even add despair?”
Zoot: (shrugging, licking whipped cream off her fingers) “I was aiming for playfully infernal!”
Finally, Satan reached Frigidor Dalek’s surrealist creation.
Satan: (nodding solemnly) “This… this is art. A visual and emotional tour de force. But it’s not technically evil, so I can’t let you win. Shame.”
Frigidor Dalek: (dramatic sigh) “ART IS ITS OWN REWARD.”
The Winner
After much deliberation, Satan picked up the megaphone.
Satan: “The winner of the Sundae Speed Challenge is… no one! Because this is hell, and you’re all staying here! But thanks for the laughs.”
The crowd erupted in groans and protests, except for Frank, who yelled:
Frank: “I KNEW IT! I TOLD YOU, ESTELLE!”
Estelle, furious, chucked a despair cherry at Satan’s head. It hit his horn and bounced off into the grill, where it exploded in a burst of glitter and flame.
Satan just laughed.
Satan: (wiping a tear from his eye) “Ah, you humans. Never change. Now, who’s ready for dodgeball?”
The scene dissolved into chaos as flaming meatballs started flying, Zoot led the charge, and Estelle dragged Frank into the fray, screaming something about how she wasn’t going to hell-dodgeball alone.
Fade to black.
