Guess What Got Here And I Don't Need A Chain Saw For

21 January 2008
Story #218

R. Linda:

The fudge is here, all 165 lbs of it. I was talking to me old neighbour when he looked past me and said, "Ayuh UPS."

Sure enough, the man in brown was lugging a box up the hilly driveway, two football fields long. I took pity on him and left the old neighbour to help.

"That for Gabe?" I asked the poor man, and he nodded, out of breath, his tongue hanging out of his mouth from the exertion.

"That's him up there by the garage," I said. Let me take that for you, and I'll see he gets it." I turned and waved at the old neighbour, who smiled and waved back.

"Here ya go then," said the UPS man, and with a deep breath he turned and slowly dragged his arse back down the two football fields of a hilly driveway to his big warm brown truck thinking me old neighbour was that terrible Gabe person.

So I took the heavy package to me neighbour, who said, "Here now, Gabriel, let me put that on my dolly. It sure does look heavy, and you can easily take it up to your house."

And this I did.

Tonya saw me coming with the dolly. She opened the door and said, "I take it that is IT, isn't it?"

I smiled broadly, nodded, and carted the box in. We dug down underneath what had to be 110 lbs of Styrofoam peanuts, and I hauled out—well, I tried to haul out—the heavy Tupperware container. It was marked Chocie Box. It was like being Indiana Jones and discovering the golden sphere. I took it out gently (well, as gently as its heaviness would allow) and struggled to hold it aloft in the light for a second of adoration.

AND HERE IT IS! FINALLY

"CHOCIEEEEEEEEEEE." We both sang out, and then Tonya put her hands under the container as we eased the Chocie Box down with reverence. Then we dug in. Yes, we did, and we were unsuccessful at breaking a chunk, so we sat down and stared at the chocie, willing it to soften up. We tried several times, both of us salivating until finally, I was able to break a piece free and split it into two. We fought over who had the bigger piece, but she was too fast for me and popped it in her mouth before I could. She sat there, me watching, her eyes crossed in pure joy, and so quickly I popped the measly piece in and OH MY GOD! Cold or not, it was damn GOOOOOD!!!

"THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, ROLONDA!" Tonya sang.

I stopped chewing. "Who's Rolonda?" I asked.

She caught a piece of fudge dribbling out of the corner of her mouth and said, "Your friend, in Colorado, the fudge." She pointed at the Chocie Box.

I sat there, eyeing the fudge for another piece, and said, "Linda, her name is Linda."

"No, no, it's not; it starts with an R."

"WHAT? It's Ramona, Tonya, RAMONA."

"No, no, it's ROLONDA. I like that name; her name is Rolonda, the Fudge Lady Par Excellence."

"She's Linda to me, so whatever. I will tell her you renamed her, and she won't let you have anymore from the Chocie Box."

With that, I gathered up the Chocie Box—well, I tried to. I heaved it up on my hip and entered the other room. Not long after, Tonya came in with the candle heater and the honey fudge.

"I will fire up this heater and put the honey fudge spread on it, and then we'll see who gets warm toast with honey fudge on it," she sneered at me. Yes, she sneered at me. I had forgotten the other items were in there, such was my passion for fudge.

I held the Chocie Box tightly to me chest and shook me head at her. She opened the candle warmer and plugged it in. I stood there aghast. She then placed the jar of honey fudge spread squarely on the warming pad, looking at me intently.

I stood there for a few minutes, the Chocie Box about glued to me chest, when the subtle smell of fudgy spread started to waft its way to me nose.

"OK, OK, here you can have some fudge, but we have to make some toast first and then put some of THAT (I pointed to the warming spread) on it."

"I thought you'd change your weak mind," Tonya said, easing the Chocie Box from me.

So I started some toast for the slathering of honey fudge on it. She can make her own, but I must tell you, if she keeps at that fudge like she is, she should be green around the gills and weigh at least 245 lbs. Her excuse for eating a "piece of this and a piece of that" is that she's trying to guess which is orange fudge, which is cinnamon, and which is almond.

I know we are like two misbehaving spoiled brats, but when it comes to chocie, you know we lose all sense of maturity.

Rest assured the Chocie Box is in good mouths, I mean hands, and we both thank you for sending such a lovely ample supply. Of course, by the time we finish that 8 1/2 lbs, we will be swearing off fudge for a very long time. As you know, we never do anything in moderation, so I expect it'll be gone by Sunday- no, make that this Tuesday, um, no how about tomorrow? Ton says, TONIGHT. Oi.

Later:

Well, feel honoured, ROLONDA. Tonya has made you one of her people. I told her in between mouthfuls of raspberry fudge (it is raspberry, isn't it?) that you were not a black woman. And she said, you made the best darned fudge in the world, so now you are because black women are the only women that can cook like that. She likes the raspberry the best, and I like the orange.

We never got to the honey fudge because we had been stuffing our faces with your fudge so much that neither of us could move to the kitchen to make toast. So the honey is on hold. We gorged ourselves until we were ready to barf and swear we weren't having anymore, and then a few minutes later, we were at it again.

We are on such a sugar high that me wife challenged me to a race around the house. But what she meant was a race around the walls of the room. We are so sugared up that we think we can do it sideways on the walls without falling off. She has cleaned the house twice, cleaned out the cabinets, and emptied the fridge, and I have gone outside to shovel—YES, I DID—and actually sprinkled salt on the icy walkway. We can't stop.

Thank you again, but there is one drawback: Tonya thinks she's gained 30 lbs in 20 seconds. If she keeps at the fudge, I'll need a crane to get her up the stairs to bed tonight, or I'll need a bigger house.

Gabe
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