194
R. Linda:
I heard from the chocievine that the way you came to the Fat Farm was through betrayal. The worst kind.
Across town, there sat YOU, watching the telly and secretly munching away on a tray of chocie fudge! Yes, I heard about how your own kids snuck up on you. Knowing you wouldn't share any of that precious fudge, they watched through the living room window as you chowed down that tray of delicious chocolate. You were bent over it, fingers working quickly, mouth chewing furiously should you be caught. All the while watching . . . yes, the outlaw channel, the underground chocie channel called Cooking with Chocolate For Instant Consumption. It used to be for instant gratification, but the FFN (Fat Farm Network) put an end to that.
While you licked your fingers on your way to the kitchen, your own flesh and blood (3), kiddies made a call on their single mobile phone (you took away two of their phones because they found a stash of dark chocolate-covered cherries and ate them all) to the Fat Farm Police. You turned on the water to soak the chocie remnants, and out of the potato bin, you pulled out two fudge bars. Next thing there, you were washing the evidence in the sink (after you licked the tray), all ready to get to your next stash of chocie, when there was a pounding on your door. Your head instantly snapped up, and your eyes got big as you turned around to see three Fat Farm Police watching you through your kitchen door. Your eyes must have narrowed as you measured the distance from them to your stash of gooey, sticky chocie taffy hidden in the toaster. They'd never look there. You smirked to yourself, but just as you were in mid-smirk, they kicked in the door (after one of your kiddies unlocked it, yes, the eldest daughter who you taunted with two bags of taffy from ME when you knew I sent one for the kiddies to keep them in line), well, she hadn't forgotten that and was out to get you. YES, ONE OF YOUR OWN!
Quickly, you shoved the two fudge bars in your deep pockets, yes, the pockets that went right down to your knees, knowing quite well if you were searched, they'd think they were your kneecaps.
"Where's the chocolate sister?" One Fat Farm Policeman demanded.
"What chocolate? What is chocolate anyway?" You feigned, but not good enough. The eldest child came in with the other two and spilt the chocolate on ya. She even got a hand mirror and threw it up so you could see the telltale signs of chocie fudge on your face. Caught chocolate-faced you were.
"LOOKIT HERE!" One of the three Fat Farm Police yelled from the living room. In the bookcase, behind hollowed-out bookends, were stacks of chocolate Halvah and dark Snickers bars. The kiddies got a pillowcase and started wiping them off the bookshelves into the case. They got a twist tie and handed YOUR stash over to the Fat Farm Police. Oh, the disloyalty of those kiddies, and worse, the injustice of wasting perfectly good candy bars! You knew the Fat Farm Police would melt them down to ash. Oi!
"We are taking you in," another said, "we know a chocolate eater when we see one."
"I am not a candy junkie, so lemme go," you struggled, to no avail. They put you in one of their white straight jackets, and you, too, were dragged to the Fat Farm van kicking and screaming.
Next thing you are in the same veggie cafeteria I had been in, a plate of broccoli on a bed of cooked lettuce staring up at you. YIKERS! To make matters worse, there was that same Fat Farm drill sergeant dressed in his spotless white fatigues with a pith helmet standing over you.
"Eat that NOW!" He bellowed.
Your mouth was drawn in a tight little line, and your eyes were slits as you stared at the vegetarian delight that wasn't so delightful. The smell of cooked lettuce alone made you gag, and you did! Great ploy on your part, but had you known to carry it a little further you'd have ended up with a milk chocie kiss being jammed down your throat instead of slimy greens.
But you didn't carry it far enough, and they started stuffing the broccoli trees into your protesting mouth.
"This would taste better WITH CHOCOLATE ON IT!" You said with your mouth full.
Meanwhile, I was caressing the posters in the isolation room.
End of part 2
Gabe
Copyright © 2007 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
I heard from the chocievine that the way you came to the Fat Farm was through betrayal. The worst kind.
Across town, there sat YOU, watching the telly and secretly munching away on a tray of chocie fudge! Yes, I heard about how your own kids snuck up on you. Knowing you wouldn't share any of that precious fudge, they watched through the living room window as you chowed down that tray of delicious chocolate. You were bent over it, fingers working quickly, mouth chewing furiously should you be caught. All the while watching . . . yes, the outlaw channel, the underground chocie channel called Cooking with Chocolate For Instant Consumption. It used to be for instant gratification, but the FFN (Fat Farm Network) put an end to that.
While you licked your fingers on your way to the kitchen, your own flesh and blood (3), kiddies made a call on their single mobile phone (you took away two of their phones because they found a stash of dark chocolate-covered cherries and ate them all) to the Fat Farm Police. You turned on the water to soak the chocie remnants, and out of the potato bin, you pulled out two fudge bars. Next thing there, you were washing the evidence in the sink (after you licked the tray), all ready to get to your next stash of chocie, when there was a pounding on your door. Your head instantly snapped up, and your eyes got big as you turned around to see three Fat Farm Police watching you through your kitchen door. Your eyes must have narrowed as you measured the distance from them to your stash of gooey, sticky chocie taffy hidden in the toaster. They'd never look there. You smirked to yourself, but just as you were in mid-smirk, they kicked in the door (after one of your kiddies unlocked it, yes, the eldest daughter who you taunted with two bags of taffy from ME when you knew I sent one for the kiddies to keep them in line), well, she hadn't forgotten that and was out to get you. YES, ONE OF YOUR OWN!
Quickly, you shoved the two fudge bars in your deep pockets, yes, the pockets that went right down to your knees, knowing quite well if you were searched, they'd think they were your kneecaps.
"Where's the chocolate sister?" One Fat Farm Policeman demanded.
"What chocolate? What is chocolate anyway?" You feigned, but not good enough. The eldest child came in with the other two and spilt the chocolate on ya. She even got a hand mirror and threw it up so you could see the telltale signs of chocie fudge on your face. Caught chocolate-faced you were.
"LOOKIT HERE!" One of the three Fat Farm Police yelled from the living room. In the bookcase, behind hollowed-out bookends, were stacks of chocolate Halvah and dark Snickers bars. The kiddies got a pillowcase and started wiping them off the bookshelves into the case. They got a twist tie and handed YOUR stash over to the Fat Farm Police. Oh, the disloyalty of those kiddies, and worse, the injustice of wasting perfectly good candy bars! You knew the Fat Farm Police would melt them down to ash. Oi!
"We are taking you in," another said, "we know a chocolate eater when we see one."
"I am not a candy junkie, so lemme go," you struggled, to no avail. They put you in one of their white straight jackets, and you, too, were dragged to the Fat Farm van kicking and screaming.
Next thing you are in the same veggie cafeteria I had been in, a plate of broccoli on a bed of cooked lettuce staring up at you. YIKERS! To make matters worse, there was that same Fat Farm drill sergeant dressed in his spotless white fatigues with a pith helmet standing over you.
"Eat that NOW!" He bellowed.
Your mouth was drawn in a tight little line, and your eyes were slits as you stared at the vegetarian delight that wasn't so delightful. The smell of cooked lettuce alone made you gag, and you did! Great ploy on your part, but had you known to carry it a little further you'd have ended up with a milk chocie kiss being jammed down your throat instead of slimy greens.
But you didn't carry it far enough, and they started stuffing the broccoli trees into your protesting mouth.
"This would taste better WITH CHOCOLATE ON IT!" You said with your mouth full.
Meanwhile, I was caressing the posters in the isolation room.
End of part 2
Gabe
Copyright © 2007 All rights reserved
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