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He didn't believe in prayer, but he did believe in intuition and a higher self, or whatever it was.

"Tell me what to do," he thought, addressing the cosmos. "Tell me if I should structure the deal or shoot it straight, the fancy or the plain...."

Just then, he felt something cold in his lap. He looked down and saw a lump of something glistening and white, a blank blob of undifferentiated frozen creaminess oozing between his legs.

The kid was looking up at him with a solemn expression. "Vanilla," he said.
--from "Vanilla" (by me), originally published in Hudson Current