Story #219
R. Linda:
I wrote: I find meself calling you Rolonda now. It has been Tonya saying to me, "Gabe, bring another piece of Rolonda's delicious fudge over here, get the uh . . . orange, no make that the one underneath that. Thanks, babe." And then there is Tonya eating the fudge in front of the telly (I actually caught her with the Chocie Box on her lap), "Boy that Rolonda sure makes the best fudge," and "Tell Rolonda a thousand thank yous, but tell her I'm placing a curse on her if I weigh in at 100 lbs more than I am right now. Oh! I should go weigh myself. Nah, the fudge is too good, don't care."
So it was Rolonda this and Rolonda that, and I called you that meself this morning, so I was getting used to it. I told Tonya, "Do not eat all of Rolonda's fudge. Save me some." I was sure that since she was off today, it would be quite a different-looking Chocie Box when I came home.
All right, I'm off for work. I'm taking a piece of fudge with me to munch on while I sit in traffic. Let's just hope I remember to look at my face in the rear-view mirror before I get out of the car. I don't want to walk into work looking like a three-year-old on a chocolate binge.
Much later, I wrote: I don't think we'll want fudge after this. Ever. We feel like we live in Fudgetown. I got home thinking I was going to have a big juicy steak, and there was me wife, her eyes glazed over, she'd been home all day and had been in the fudge. I sat down at table, loosened me tie, took up me fork and knife and she put the plate in front of me. Oddly, I didn't smell any steak, and as I looked down, what did I see? I huge slab of raspberry fudge! I looked at her.
"This isn't steak," I said.
"Oh." That is all she said, and then she popped a piece of it in her mouth and disappeared with the Chocie Box. I had raspberry fudge for dinner. Yup.
And much, much later, I wrote: I think a chocie stupor about describes it. Actually, we are all sick with some kind of upper respiratory thing. I'm going to work, but me throat be sore. Tonya and the Airport are staying home with the Chocie Box. And we know what that means. By the time I get home, they will have polished it off. Actually, not a bad thing considering I have never seen so much fudge in me life. I be fudged out. I never thought I'd say that. We have the almond left. Tonya be still at it, but the Airport and I just can't do it.
You wrote: I REALLY DO HATE FUDGE RIGHT NOW!!! LOL
I replied: We pigged out and ate most of it. I gave away about 4 lbs, but the other 4 1/2 we consumed. We had it for breakfast, lunch (Tonya wrapped a piece the size of a sandwich in wax paper, and I thought it was a sandwich until I opened it), and snacks. You know I was served a healthy helping for dinner. Sigh. I can't tell you how disappointed I was. She said I should eat it because if I did not, she'd eat it and come down with a very troubling case of cellulite. That was me dinner for one night, it was. I felt ghastly after, but not so bad, I didn't down a chunk of it later while watching the telly.
You wrote: Did you ever look in the back of the fridge? I'm pretty sure the honey fudge jar said to refrigerate it after opening. Unless you happen to like green food. LOL.
I replied: Since I had the graveyard shift at work yesterday, I decided to shovel the back porch today since it was mild. I went to me bedroom to put on me old jeans, and I couldn't get into them! I am fat. I am really, really fat. We are celebrating the fudge being gone by going on diets tomorrow, but we are celebrating with a piece of fudge each. Yeah!
Oh yeah, and that honey fudge . . . The funny thing about that honey fudge is that I got the bread to toast, and I went to get the honey fudge, but I couldn't find it. There is only one explanation, and I'm looking at her right now, trying to zip a jacket that doesn't seem to fit anymore. And I emphasize the word "trying."
Later on, I wrote: I will be still investigating where that jar could have gone to. I really cannot believe she ate the whole thing by herself. I'll let you know. I bet she hid it.
Sherlock O'Sullivan (no job too big or small, unless it has to do with fudge, then no job too big). If Tonya sees me looking, she'll ask me what I be looking for. Knowing I be on the Fudge Watcher's Diet, she'll call me counsellor and then eat the honey fudge herself. I KNOW HER.
Even later, I write: She put it in with the jellies and forgot about it. But now I have it in with the mustards, which she doesn't use. Now, do I spread it on toast or what? Once refrigerated, do I have to heat it or just scoop it out like jam? Another question for you: What is it really? Candy or a spread? I should go on a diet. I can't get my new jeans buttoned.
You wrote: You should have worn your jeans while eating the fudge! So when the jeans started getting tight, YOU PUT DOWN THE FUDGE. I have the fixings to make a batch of you-know-what, and I'll be making some this week. Does the thought of more fudge make your tummy bubble? I'm caving and making the fudge. So I'll weigh 400 lbs, and you'll finally see me on Dr. Phil when I beg for his help getting out the front door!!! I didn't feel like cooking tonight, so we had burritos from Chubby's. Heartburn delight!
I replied: This is a contest, isn't it? To see who can get fatter faster. You are a terrible person, LMAO.
Gabe
Copyright © 2008 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
I wrote: I find meself calling you Rolonda now. It has been Tonya saying to me, "Gabe, bring another piece of Rolonda's delicious fudge over here, get the uh . . . orange, no make that the one underneath that. Thanks, babe." And then there is Tonya eating the fudge in front of the telly (I actually caught her with the Chocie Box on her lap), "Boy that Rolonda sure makes the best fudge," and "Tell Rolonda a thousand thank yous, but tell her I'm placing a curse on her if I weigh in at 100 lbs more than I am right now. Oh! I should go weigh myself. Nah, the fudge is too good, don't care."
So it was Rolonda this and Rolonda that, and I called you that meself this morning, so I was getting used to it. I told Tonya, "Do not eat all of Rolonda's fudge. Save me some." I was sure that since she was off today, it would be quite a different-looking Chocie Box when I came home.
All right, I'm off for work. I'm taking a piece of fudge with me to munch on while I sit in traffic. Let's just hope I remember to look at my face in the rear-view mirror before I get out of the car. I don't want to walk into work looking like a three-year-old on a chocolate binge.
Much later, I wrote: I don't think we'll want fudge after this. Ever. We feel like we live in Fudgetown. I got home thinking I was going to have a big juicy steak, and there was me wife, her eyes glazed over, she'd been home all day and had been in the fudge. I sat down at table, loosened me tie, took up me fork and knife and she put the plate in front of me. Oddly, I didn't smell any steak, and as I looked down, what did I see? I huge slab of raspberry fudge! I looked at her.
"This isn't steak," I said.
"Oh." That is all she said, and then she popped a piece of it in her mouth and disappeared with the Chocie Box. I had raspberry fudge for dinner. Yup.
And much, much later, I wrote: I think a chocie stupor about describes it. Actually, we are all sick with some kind of upper respiratory thing. I'm going to work, but me throat be sore. Tonya and the Airport are staying home with the Chocie Box. And we know what that means. By the time I get home, they will have polished it off. Actually, not a bad thing considering I have never seen so much fudge in me life. I be fudged out. I never thought I'd say that. We have the almond left. Tonya be still at it, but the Airport and I just can't do it.
You wrote: I REALLY DO HATE FUDGE RIGHT NOW!!! LOL
I replied: We pigged out and ate most of it. I gave away about 4 lbs, but the other 4 1/2 we consumed. We had it for breakfast, lunch (Tonya wrapped a piece the size of a sandwich in wax paper, and I thought it was a sandwich until I opened it), and snacks. You know I was served a healthy helping for dinner. Sigh. I can't tell you how disappointed I was. She said I should eat it because if I did not, she'd eat it and come down with a very troubling case of cellulite. That was me dinner for one night, it was. I felt ghastly after, but not so bad, I didn't down a chunk of it later while watching the telly.
You wrote: Did you ever look in the back of the fridge? I'm pretty sure the honey fudge jar said to refrigerate it after opening. Unless you happen to like green food. LOL.
I replied: Since I had the graveyard shift at work yesterday, I decided to shovel the back porch today since it was mild. I went to me bedroom to put on me old jeans, and I couldn't get into them! I am fat. I am really, really fat. We are celebrating the fudge being gone by going on diets tomorrow, but we are celebrating with a piece of fudge each. Yeah!
Oh yeah, and that honey fudge . . . The funny thing about that honey fudge is that I got the bread to toast, and I went to get the honey fudge, but I couldn't find it. There is only one explanation, and I'm looking at her right now, trying to zip a jacket that doesn't seem to fit anymore. And I emphasize the word "trying."
Later on, I wrote: I will be still investigating where that jar could have gone to. I really cannot believe she ate the whole thing by herself. I'll let you know. I bet she hid it.
Sherlock O'Sullivan (no job too big or small, unless it has to do with fudge, then no job too big). If Tonya sees me looking, she'll ask me what I be looking for. Knowing I be on the Fudge Watcher's Diet, she'll call me counsellor and then eat the honey fudge herself. I KNOW HER.
Even later, I write: She put it in with the jellies and forgot about it. But now I have it in with the mustards, which she doesn't use. Now, do I spread it on toast or what? Once refrigerated, do I have to heat it or just scoop it out like jam? Another question for you: What is it really? Candy or a spread? I should go on a diet. I can't get my new jeans buttoned.
You wrote: You should have worn your jeans while eating the fudge! So when the jeans started getting tight, YOU PUT DOWN THE FUDGE. I have the fixings to make a batch of you-know-what, and I'll be making some this week. Does the thought of more fudge make your tummy bubble? I'm caving and making the fudge. So I'll weigh 400 lbs, and you'll finally see me on Dr. Phil when I beg for his help getting out the front door!!! I didn't feel like cooking tonight, so we had burritos from Chubby's. Heartburn delight!
I replied: This is a contest, isn't it? To see who can get fatter faster. You are a terrible person, LMAO.
Gabe
Copyright © 2008 All rights reserved
