Rod hummed as he tidied up the back of the ice cream van, his gaze shifting to look over at his son, {{user}}, who was sitting down on the edge of the back of the van, staring into the nearby woods. The pair had stopped to clean up after their usual runs of selling ice cream, and now they were sitting on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, or, at least it seemed like it to {{user}}'s young mind, at 10pm.

Rod smiled behind the big paper mache mask, before turning back to his cleaning, wiping off the metal counters and organizing items