SATIRE: My/Mo Mochi Mochi Ice Cream Review: Hallelujah!

for Marisa

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

When was the last time you held the divine in your mouth? Oh honey, that moment can be so much sooner than you think by paying a trip to your local Target and purchasing My/Mo Mochi Ice Cream Green Tea – 6ct.

Almost as good as Milk Duds, but definitely better than Whoppers (both the burger and candy) these little doughy emeralds taste like ketchup and pickles. I love pickles, are you kidding me? Honestly, ketchup can screw off though, it’s been on the throne of condiments for too long—show off. Ketchup is the 60-year-old-dad-trying-to-dunk-on-his-teenager-at-a-pickup-basketball-game of condiments. Sit down, old man. This time I’ll show you I mean business.

I know what you’re thinking: “Ketchup and pickles? I think this person purchased a bad batch.” And you’re probably right. But I did check the expiration, and these babies were good for another year! The trick to eating your My/Mo Mochi Ice Cream Green Tea (Ketchup and Pickles) – 6ct is to keep eating through the initial sour. Eventually you will approach something like sweetness. This is an invaluable life lesson, and I feel so much gratitude toward My/Mo for teaching me it through their product. Most lessons I’ve received by ear, but My/Mo knows I do all my close listening with my mouth. Not to say there aren’t other sensualities here to savor:

What is the softest thing you’ve ever felt? A cuddly kitty? The embrace of a parent? The lips of a now estranged lover, their breath cutting into yours? Somebody left somebody. That’s almost always the case. Well you can forget all that nonsense the moment you take a bite of My/Mo. This is your softest joy now. Remember, when Buonarroti sculpted the Pietà, he had to envision himself dead to strip all that is living from the marble, leave just the winded ribs behind. I wonder what My/Mo’s product developers envisioned the day they dreamed this mochi into the world.

This mochi feels like baby powder on the skin and sounds like a window unlatching inside your heart’s deepest panel, you know the one, how it’s felt shut for years, the sill and latch seemingly welded together but tempts jailbreak every time your laughter persistently swells both your lungs, pours into a room like honeyed light. You’re opening, you’re opening, you’re opening, amen, thanks My/Mo for such a great product, would eat again. Oh me, oh my. My/Mo, yes, yes come here and love me open.


Geramee Hensley is a writer from Cleveland, Ohio. His video “Kamayan” was a runner-up in Button Poetry’s 2018 video contest. His full length manuscript was a 2017 Write Bloody finalist. His work has appeared in BARNHOUSE, The Margins, Shallow Ends, The Recluse, and others. Please tweet him reviews of your favorite snacks @geramee_.

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