15 July 2007
193
R. Linda:
I did not think it was very funny at first, and I be sure you didn't either, but since we had so little time to talk about it, I be making time for that now. What with the rush to get away from the fat farmers and find chocolate of good quality all at the same time, me head was spinning, me stomach was aching, and the weather being 110 in the shade certainly didn't help matters.
I wanted to ask you how the fat farmers found you. I know how they found me; I craved chocie so much that I threw caution to the wind and attempted an outing to the underground Truffle Shoppe. I will admit me mind was far away thinking of chocolate, and me awareness of being hunted down was out the window. It had been an entire week of being chocolate-less. So there I was, walking to the secret truffle shop, happily licking me lips at the thought of big dark chocie French truffles that I lost all awareness of me surroundings. Until the net came over me and the phrase, said with such triumph, "Got ya!" rang out that it was seconds before I realised I was captured by two fat farmers. Oi, oi, oi!
I thought since I was a tall, skinny guy with no fillings in me mouth, no one would suspect me secret chocie craving. I think it was the dreamy expression on me face as the images of chocolates floated around in me head and that I was licking me lips in anticipation that gave yours truly away. OR . . . it was the dried chocie stains on me white tee shirt where I sucked the last of the good stuff, not quite getting all the stain out. Yeah, that was it, stupid me, I should have changed me shirt.
I put up a struggle I did, but being so deprived of chocolate, I was weak and it was easy for them to put the straight jacket on me squirming bod and haul me arse off to the Fat Farm van. I saw it through the net that was still wrapped around me head, the handle of the net whipping me on the back and arse as they dragged me to it. Printed on the side of the gleaming white van in big letters was: FAT FARM FOR CHOCIEHOLICS - We'll have you eating healthy veggies in two days!
I put on me brakes by digging me heels into the sidewalk as they pulled and pushed me all at the same time, but it was to no avail. The rubber tread on me high-top sneakers ripped off, and me protests of "No, no, no!" fell on deaf Far Farm worker ears. WHOMP went the door, and I found meself trussed like a turkey in the dark van. I sat there blinking, me eyes adjusting to the darkness. I ventured a pathetic "hello?" and was answered with five equally pathetic hellos back. I was not alone! No, I was among other chocieholics in the back of a Fat Farm van.
Before I could get another word out of me mouth, the van squealed away with a lurch, and I went backwards to the hard floor, hitting me head. It stunned me for an instant, and I saw visions of chocie fudge, chocie truffles, chocie taffy, and chocie cookie bars. And in me mind tried to reach out for them, but then me mind cleared. The ache in the back of me head made me craving that much more intense. I must have screamed out the words, "CHOCIE FOREVER!" which made the other occupants of the dark van whimper in deprived voices at the memory of that dark, luscious, creamy substance melting in their mouths, floating like a chocolate river down the back of the throat to their stomachs, which smiled in satisfaction of a truffle well eaten.
I wanted to ask you how the fat farmers found you. I know how they found me; I craved chocie so much that I threw caution to the wind and attempted an outing to the underground Truffle Shoppe. I will admit me mind was far away thinking of chocolate, and me awareness of being hunted down was out the window. It had been an entire week of being chocolate-less. So there I was, walking to the secret truffle shop, happily licking me lips at the thought of big dark chocie French truffles that I lost all awareness of me surroundings. Until the net came over me and the phrase, said with such triumph, "Got ya!" rang out that it was seconds before I realised I was captured by two fat farmers. Oi, oi, oi!
I thought since I was a tall, skinny guy with no fillings in me mouth, no one would suspect me secret chocie craving. I think it was the dreamy expression on me face as the images of chocolates floated around in me head and that I was licking me lips in anticipation that gave yours truly away. OR . . . it was the dried chocie stains on me white tee shirt where I sucked the last of the good stuff, not quite getting all the stain out. Yeah, that was it, stupid me, I should have changed me shirt.
I put up a struggle I did, but being so deprived of chocolate, I was weak and it was easy for them to put the straight jacket on me squirming bod and haul me arse off to the Fat Farm van. I saw it through the net that was still wrapped around me head, the handle of the net whipping me on the back and arse as they dragged me to it. Printed on the side of the gleaming white van in big letters was: FAT FARM FOR CHOCIEHOLICS - We'll have you eating healthy veggies in two days!
I put on me brakes by digging me heels into the sidewalk as they pulled and pushed me all at the same time, but it was to no avail. The rubber tread on me high-top sneakers ripped off, and me protests of "No, no, no!" fell on deaf Far Farm worker ears. WHOMP went the door, and I found meself trussed like a turkey in the dark van. I sat there blinking, me eyes adjusting to the darkness. I ventured a pathetic "hello?" and was answered with five equally pathetic hellos back. I was not alone! No, I was among other chocieholics in the back of a Fat Farm van.
Before I could get another word out of me mouth, the van squealed away with a lurch, and I went backwards to the hard floor, hitting me head. It stunned me for an instant, and I saw visions of chocie fudge, chocie truffles, chocie taffy, and chocie cookie bars. And in me mind tried to reach out for them, but then me mind cleared. The ache in the back of me head made me craving that much more intense. I must have screamed out the words, "CHOCIE FOREVER!" which made the other occupants of the dark van whimper in deprived voices at the memory of that dark, luscious, creamy substance melting in their mouths, floating like a chocolate river down the back of the throat to their stomachs, which smiled in satisfaction of a truffle well eaten.
SIGH.
I must have fallen off into a catatonic chocolate sleep because when I awoke, the blast of heat and light from the van doors being opened brought me to, and sitting up too fast, me brain hit the front of me skull, and I almost passed out. I was hauled out first, still struggling with the fat farmers, I tried to kick some dust up into their faces with me sneaker treads flopping in the dirt, but it was me that inhaled the dust and started a choking fit.
I was vaguely aware of the other chocaholics being dragged from the van, and in a line, we were marched off to whitewashed barrack-like houses. There we were, lined up, each of us in a row, all straight jacketed and miserable for the want of fresh, lovely chocolate.
A man dressed in white wearing a pith helmet came in and marched in front of us, slapping a riding crop across his palm for emphasis on every word he said. And to be quite honest, I was in a chocieholic haze and don't recall a single word of the diatribe that was to put some sense into our chocie-lusting heads.
I also do not remember being released from the straight jacket, but I seemed to awaken from me chocie haze as soon as me nostrils absorbed the odour of steamed carrots, string beans and, yuck -- Brussels sprouts! I thought I'd barf right then and there except for the Fat Farm drill sergeant putting his face in mine and yelling at me this: "Pick up your fork recruit, and get a healthy heaping helping of those veggies into your sad chocolate encrusted mouth! Do you hear me, chocolate eater?"
Yes, I admit it: I be a chocolate eater. One of thousands who crave the dark, smooth feel and rich taste of chocolate done to perfection. Yes, I admit I cannot eat just one chocie truffle or one piece of candy from a candy box. I admit I cannot resist going one hour without some form of chocolate. YES, and I be not alone; there are thousands, hundreds of thousands of secret chocieholics out there, and we know what it is to get a chocie high. So what if it zips on the pounds, but man, oh man, is it good getting there.
I lifted the fork gingerly to me clamped jaws. I held me breath as the Fat Farm drill sergeant watched me. I started snivelling at the fork full of veggies. I could see the orange carrots shiny and slick and the long opaque string beans dripping juice, and worse, the piece of cabbagy-looking Brussels sprout a yellowy green hanging off the end of those sharp prongs. I opened me mouth 1 centimetre. It was all I could manage. The snivelling got worse as an "ew" sound started coming up me throat.
"Open wide chocolate eater, NOW!" The drill sergeant shouted.
I closed me eyes, held me breath again and opened not too wide, enough that I could feel the slimy edge of a Brussels sprout leaf against me protesting lips. Me tongue rolled back in me head at the touch and thought, and I started to gag. Me eyes rolled back, and I dropped the offending veggies back on the plate with a resounding clang, as me body stiffened.
"Get a chocolate kiss in him quick before we lose him!" The sergeant ordered.
And there it was on me tongue, a small piece of milk chocolate, ok it wasn't the hard stuff, the dark chocie, but it was CHOCOLATE all the same and I felt me lips smacking and me tongue rolling the melty stuff around against me teeth, OH THE TASTE OF IT!
"Come on, swallow it!" The sergeant shouted, hitting me between the shoulders, forcing the chocie down all too soon.
Oh, the blasphemy of it! To have chocie on one's tongue, savouring it and then having to swallow fast negating the pure enjoyment of it. Woe was me!
I was rushed out of the food hall (thank the chocie gods for that) and to a barracks room where they closed me in a room with posters all over the four walls of CHOCOLATE! All kinds, Goobers, chocolate kisses, peanut clusters oozing chocolate and caramel, yum. There were chocolate turtle pictures, chocie bunnies and chocie eggs, oh, the cruelty of it. I passed out from sheer want.
End Part 1
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