Jamesy looks around the park in search of the maybe grouchy, maybe lonely bench sitters. He knows it always hurts to get rejected, but he has to try. His back pack weughs him down with those blue coldpacks keeping those Good Humor bars at their frosty best. Bench sitter one has potential for a score, as he is a reader and looks like he could use a laugh.
"Hey, mister, I represent the ice cream singing society and would like to invite you to today's opening ceremony."