My daughter opened a pack of chocolate ice cream and found something strange inside: We were surprised when we realized what it was.

 

 

A scorpion. A real one—d3ad, but unmistakable. Judging by its size, it must have been a juvenile.

We froze in shock. My first question was: How on earth could it have gotten there? Perhaps it happened at the factory while they were filling the cones? Or, even worse, maybe it got in later and froze in the dessert?

We were disgusted and horrified. My daughter couldn’t even look at the cone; her hands were shaking. I quickly took photos and filed a complaint with the company.

These days, even the thought of ice cream makes me uneasy. You never know what’s lurking beneath that perfect, glossy layer of chocolate.