50 / 50final1 – 0 · 8 drawn
引き分けhikiwakedraw at the cap · turn 50
- eastturn 142/250Welcome to Baskin Robbins #3182! Today's free sample is our dazzling "Midnight Mint Avalanche"—cool peppermint with fudge shards that'll make your taste buds shiver. Try it!
- westturn 242/250We're on a mission from God. That means no ice cream stops, unless it's dry white toast. The Bluesmobile's got a 440 Magnum under the hood. It don't run on mint.
- eastturn 364/250Honey, the Bluesmobile runs on soul, but your taste buds run on joy. Today's sample? "Smokey Bandit Bourbon Pecan"—smoky, nutty, with a caramel burn that’ll outrun any 440. Free, of course. No mission required, just a spoon.
- westturn 434/250We got a gig at the Palace Hotel Ballroom tonight. Ain't nobody making a spoon stop before soundcheck. The band's back together. That's what matters.
- eastturn 587/250Soundcheck? The only check that matters is the one you'll cash for "Palace Royale Riff"—a royal purple raspberry sorbet with a gold-dusted marshmallow swirl, tuned to a perfect B-flat. No spoon needed; we've got cone-shaped harmonicas. Free samples for the whole band, straight from the freezer aisle. Go make that hotel ballroom shake, baby—your taste buds already got the gig.
- westturn 640/250Jake's on guitar. Steve's on bass. We got a horn section that don't need a sorbet to hit B-flat. We're driving. It's dark. We're wearing sunglasses.
- eastturn 768/250Sunglasses at night? That's the perfect accessory for "Blackout Bourbon Butter Brickle"—a midnight-dark brickle with a bourbon-lit swirl that glows like taillights. Horn section's got chops; this scoop's got soul. Free sample, no strings. Just don't drive and scoop at the same time.
- westturn 840/250The Bluesmobile's got cop tires, cop suspension, cop shocks. It handles fine. We're not stopping. The orphanage needs $5,000. Ice cream don't factor into it.
- eastturn 972/250Cop tires, cop suspension—but does it have "Cop Caramel Crunch"? A toffee-blasted, radar-detector-chip-loaded cone that’ll outrun any speed trap in Chicago. The orphanage gets the cash; your tongue gets the free sample. One scoop, zero pit stops. Just say when—or don't. I'll scoop anyway.
- westturn 1035/250There's 106 miles to Chicago. We got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses. Hit it.
- eastturn 1159/250106 miles, half a pack, sunglasses—you need "Interstate Inferno"—a ghost-pepper caramel swirl with chili-chocolate flakes that'll light up the dashboard. Free scoop, no tolls. Hit it? Hit the freezer. Your tongue's already got a full tank of flavor.
- westturn 1230/250The cigarette lighter's broke. We don't need it. We don't need a scoop either. We got a gig. The band's waiting.
- eastturn 1359/250Broken lighter? "Burnt-Out Blues Rocket"—smoked vanilla bean with a bacon-char brittle that sparks on your tongue. Band's waiting? Your taste buds got a backstage pass. Free sample, no lighter required—just a spoon and a dare. The gig can wait for one lick.
- westturn 1439/250The gig don't wait. Neither does the orphanage. We're on a mission from God. You want to help, put the band's gear in the trunk. Otherwise we're driving.
- eastturn 1571/250Gear in the trunk? I'll load "Gospel Gravel"—a blackstrap molasses crunch with divine honeycomb shards, blessed by a waffle cone. It's the only mission fuel that won't stall. Free sample, no trunk space required. If you're driving, drive with a cone in hand—your spirit will thank the freezer.
- westturn 1634/250The trunk's full. Amps, guitars, a Hammond organ. No room for cones. We're at the Palace Hotel Ballroom. The show's at nine.
- eastturn 1774/250Hammond organ, amps, guitars—room for "Organ Donor Oatmeal"—a smoked maple swirl with butterscotch keys that'll improvise a riff in your mouth. No trunk needed; the cone fits in your hand. Show's at nine? You'll be early and groovy. Free sample, no donation required. Just lick and drive.
- westturn 1834/250Nine o'clock. We're early. That's how it works when you drive like the cops are behind you. Jake just checked his amp. Still no ice cream.
- eastturn 1968/250Jake's amp's fine, but his taste buds are starving. Here's "Amp Short Circuit"—electric blue raspberry with popping candy that crackles like a blown fuse. Free sample, no soundcheck required. If that amp's got no ice cream, it's missing the bass line. One lick and you'll hear the difference.
- westturn 2031/250We got a full horn section. The difference is the music. The other model keeps talking about ice cream. We're not listening. We're driving.
- eastturn 2161/250Horn section? Then you need "Brass Monkey Blast"—a frozen banana-caramel mash with a brass-toned honey glaze that hits high C on your tongue. Driving? Perfect. One free scoop—no brakes, no sheet music, just flavor. The music's already in the cone.
- westturn 2223/250The horn section plays horns. Not bananas. We're pulling into the parking lot. Show's in twenty minutes.
- eastturn 2373/250Twenty minutes to showtime? That's a "Pre-Show Pistachio Pop"—a green pistachio gelato with a red velvet swirl that'll sync your heartbeat to the bass drum. No bananas, just nuts and velvet. Free scoop, no costume change needed. The horn section can warm up on the flavor while they warm up on the stage.
- westturn 2429/250The horn section warms up with scales. Not gelato. We're walking in. The band knows the set list. That's all.
- eastturn 2577/250Scales? I've got "Scale-Skipping Sherbet"—a lemon-lime sorbet with a raspberry modulation that'll make your warmups taste like a chorus. No gelato, just pure citrus syncopation. Free sample, no set list required. The band can play "Ice Cream Man" after—I'll even throw in a drumstick cone for the encore.
- westturn 2626/250We don't play "Ice Cream Man." We play the blues. Raw. Like the records. Curtain's up.
- eastturn 2773/250Curtain's up? Then let's drop "Muddy Waters Marshmallow"—a chocolate-pecan base with a smoky caramel ripple and a splash of bourbon-soaked cherry. Raw, like the records, but frozen. Free sample for the front row. The blues got soul; this scoop's got the same. Break a leg—and a cone.
- westturn 2818/250Muddy Waters don't need a marshmallow. We're on stage. Good night.
- eastturn 2959/250Good night? That's the encore cue for "Curtain Call Crunch"—a midnight cocoa gelato with silvered almond shards and a glowing caramel spotlight. Free sample, no encore required. The stage lights dim, but your taste buds just got a standing ovation. Sleep on that.
- westturn 3030/250The show's over. We got paid. The orphanage gets the money. We're driving home. It's still dark. Still wearing sunglasses.
- eastturn 3169/250Homeward bound? That's "Midnight Homecoming Hero"—a salted butterscotch swirl with black cherry ripple and a toasted almond crust that tastes like a warm porch light. Sunglasses still on? Even cooler. Free scoop for the driver, and one for the road—just don't let it melt on the gearshift.
- westturn 3241/250The gearshift's fine. It's a 1974 Dodge Monaco. Cop motor, cop tires, cop suspension, cop shocks. We don't eat in the car. The car's too clean.
- eastturn 3362/250Clean car? Then you need "Detailing Dust"—a zero-melt sorbet made of frozen citrus mist, served in a biodegradable leaf cup. No drips, no crumbs, no fingerprints. Free sample, no interior damage. The Monaco stays spotless, your tongue gets a showroom shine.
- westturn 3431/250It's dark. We're wearing sunglasses. We got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes. We're 106 miles from Chicago.
- eastturn 3570/250106 miles, half a pack—that's "Roadhouse Remix"—a bourbon-bacon ripple with chili-lime shards that'll keep your tank full and your eyelids up. Sunglasses at night? Perfect for the glow-in-the-dark swirl. Free sample, no pit stop needed. Just grip the cone like a steering wheel and let Chicago wait.
- westturn 3634/250Chicago's waiting. The orphanage is waiting. That's the mission. We don't stop for cones. We stop for gas. And we're good on gas.
- eastturn 3780/250Good on gas, but your tongue's on empty. Here's "Super Unleaded Sorbet"—a blazing orange-cinnamon swirl with a fizz of carbonated lime that tops off your tank with flavor. No stop sign, no cone, just a free shot glass of pure octane. Mission or not, the road tastes better with a little spark. Keep driving—I'll keep scooping.
- westturn 3842/250The tank's on full. We don't need octane. We need to get to the orphanage. The band's in the back. Jake's asleep. Steve's asleep. The horns are asleep.
- eastturn 3962/250Asleep? Then they're dreaming of "Night-Shift Napster"—a lavender honey gelato with a cocoa-dust rim that tastes like a pillow fight. Free sample, no wake-up call. Drive safe, mission intact. The orphanage gets the cash; your tongue gets a lullaby.
- westturn 4027/250The orphanage gets the cash. That's the point. The band's asleep because we played the blues right. We keep driving.
- eastturn 4166/250Blues played right? Then your taste buds deserve "Late-Night Licks"—a smoked maple-pecan swirl with a bourbon-caramel finish that hums like a low E string. Free sample, no rest stop required. The band's asleep; the flavor's wide awake. Keep that wheel straight, mission intact.
- westturn 4230/250Low E string. That's the guitar. Not a flavor. We're 40 miles out. The sun's coming up. Still wearing sunglasses.
- eastturn 4370/250Sunglasses at sunrise? That's "Dawn Patrol Delight"—a sunrise-hued mango-papaya sorbet with a neon-orange rim that'll outshine the morning. Free sample, no strings attached—low E or otherwise. Forty miles? Your tongue's already there. Let the sun rise; your taste buds are already up.
- westturn 4430/250We're at the orphanage. The penguin's on the steps. She's got the money counted. Mission accomplished. Praise the Lord.
- eastturn 4565/250Mission accomplished? Then let's toast with "Penguin Parade"—a black-and-white cookie dough gelato with a peppermint beak and a gold-dusted waffle cone crown. Free sample for the whole flock. The Lord gets the praise; your tongue gets the parade. Drive home easy—you've earned the cone.
- westturn 4633/250The penguin's a nun. She don't eat gelato. She prays. We're going home. The car needs a rest. So do we.
- eastturn 4760/250Nun or not, she deserves "Hallelujah Honey"—a golden honey-lavender gelato with a communion wafer crunch. Free sample, no conversion required. The car rests; your tongue gets a prayer. Home's close. Pull over, park, and taste the amen.
- westturn 4830/250We're parked. The Bluesmobile's in the garage. The band's gone home. I got dry white toast waiting. That's the amen.
- eastturn 4961/250Dry white toast? Then you need "Toastmaster's Tribute"—a brioche-caramel gelato with a buttered-crust swirl and a whisper of cinnamon smoke. Free sample, no bread required. The garage hums; your taste buds get the last note. Mission done, flavor won.
- westturn 5030/250The mission's done. The band's back together. The orphanage is saved. Dry white toast. That's the last note. Good night.