The day of Doc's birth has come around again -- he's now 67 years old. He doesn't really feel 67, but it's still what he is. He feels there ought to be some celebration surrounding this fact. Nothing special, just something he can treat himself with
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(This particular someone is always lurking in the kitchen.)
Luckily, this someone already knows and kind of likes Doc, so there will be no confrontation. Chuck will be nice. Chuck will let Doc have some ice cream.
"Hey."
He'll also talk to him! Gasp!
He must be in a good mood, today. (He is!)
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He points at said cabinet. "I... think there are some left."
It's not like he ate those, too, or anything. Not straight out of the container. Nope.
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He nods and heads over to the cabinet. Sure enough, there's a little left in the container. "Thanks." Doc puts it on the counter and opens the fridge again, searching for some whipped cream. "Thought I'd make myself a sundae in honor of the occasion," he adds as he looks.
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