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08/06/2021
FlirtyFlower
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FlirtyFlower
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Until(s) the next chocolate
Well, there he sat with his pimple on his nose. It was a joke to think that fate could be fair. Almost like a farce. ... or like in the book Bridget Jones Chocolate for Breakfast, where the couple couldn't meet.
... because he had a pimple on his nose and she had no suitable clothes to wear. So they each ended up eating chocolate in front of the TV. So it was great cinema. Almost like real life.
Except he didn't have a date, a woman in sight or any chocolate in the house. ... right, why was he actually out of chocolate?
Yet the day had ended really disastrously. Just as disastrous as it had started. At least the colleague in the room always had headphones on, so he didn't know if she had heard him tooting it in a very loud way.
Crap, he was really craving chocolate.
Well, maybe he could ask his neighbor Dimi, the tall pale Greek with the white Persian cat named Bodo.
Chocolate...
Many people already didn't even know what real chocolate really was.
Because there were two kinds of chocolate... the real kind and the nut nougat cream.
You see, after the Second World War, all the cocoa supplies had been used up and there were no cocoa beans left at that time.
So a certain Pietro Ferrero invented the nut nougat cream. An alternative chocolate that had nothing to do with the real cocoa anymore, but was still delicious and landed a hit with it.
Later it was also the son of Ferrero, who created Nutella from it and landed the next hit. The rest was history.
Phew... it didn't help, he had to ring Dimi's doorbell.
While he was at it, he wanted to pick up the yummy white chocobos while he was shopping. But he was so broke, he had to choose. Between the toilet paper and the chocolate. It was a tough head-to-head... and a very close call.
Dimi treated him to a Blody Mary and some veggie cookies. No wonder the guy was so slim. ... if he hadn't been so pale, he could have been a real chick magnet. ... but those pointy teeth... and those quirks of not liking garlic or never looking at himself in the mirror.
Phew... and apparently Dimi didn't have any chocolate at home. Whew... maybe cookies? At this inward question, Bodo joined him, looking at him with his bright blue eyes. A beautiful Persian male, silver shaded. Fluffy, never stuffy, and always a cuddler.
But now what was with the chocolate?
Dimi told him that the pretty Dramatilda had apparently bought white chocobons while shopping today. Maybe he could ring her doorbell.
Dimi was quite taken with her. Didn't she seem like a Satanist, with her black lipstick, darkly made-up eyes, and Mercedes-Benz star around her neck?
Phew... so I guess he had no option... because no more money, no more chocolate and no more Dimi joker.
So I guess he had to ring Dramatilda's bell.
But what happened next was terrible.
He believed in fairy tales, but at least since that unflattering sight, he also believed in horror movies.
But she had a bag of white chocobos in her hand, smelled mega yummy like incense and a delicious vanilla latte macchiato. ... And had a Wolfgang Hohlbein book tucked under her arm.
Maybe he could close both eyes after all, instead of the bright red pimple on his nose, and maybe there would be chocolate for breakfast somehow after all.
Maybe...
Even if there would be drama with Tilda first.
EPILOGUE
"Don't tell me what you dreamed last night, for I have read Freud." Anonymous
... because he had a pimple on his nose and she had no suitable clothes to wear. So they each ended up eating chocolate in front of the TV. So it was great cinema. Almost like real life.
Except he didn't have a date, a woman in sight or any chocolate in the house. ... right, why was he actually out of chocolate?
Yet the day had ended really disastrously. Just as disastrous as it had started. At least the colleague in the room always had headphones on, so he didn't know if she had heard him tooting it in a very loud way.
Crap, he was really craving chocolate.
Well, maybe he could ask his neighbor Dimi, the tall pale Greek with the white Persian cat named Bodo.
Chocolate...
Many people already didn't even know what real chocolate really was.
Because there were two kinds of chocolate... the real kind and the nut nougat cream.
You see, after the Second World War, all the cocoa supplies had been used up and there were no cocoa beans left at that time.
So a certain Pietro Ferrero invented the nut nougat cream. An alternative chocolate that had nothing to do with the real cocoa anymore, but was still delicious and landed a hit with it.
Later it was also the son of Ferrero, who created Nutella from it and landed the next hit. The rest was history.
Phew... it didn't help, he had to ring Dimi's doorbell.
While he was at it, he wanted to pick up the yummy white chocobos while he was shopping. But he was so broke, he had to choose. Between the toilet paper and the chocolate. It was a tough head-to-head... and a very close call.
Dimi treated him to a Blody Mary and some veggie cookies. No wonder the guy was so slim. ... if he hadn't been so pale, he could have been a real chick magnet. ... but those pointy teeth... and those quirks of not liking garlic or never looking at himself in the mirror.
Phew... and apparently Dimi didn't have any chocolate at home. Whew... maybe cookies? At this inward question, Bodo joined him, looking at him with his bright blue eyes. A beautiful Persian male, silver shaded. Fluffy, never stuffy, and always a cuddler.
But now what was with the chocolate?
Dimi told him that the pretty Dramatilda had apparently bought white chocobons while shopping today. Maybe he could ring her doorbell.
Dimi was quite taken with her. Didn't she seem like a Satanist, with her black lipstick, darkly made-up eyes, and Mercedes-Benz star around her neck?
Phew... so I guess he had no option... because no more money, no more chocolate and no more Dimi joker.
So I guess he had to ring Dramatilda's bell.
But what happened next was terrible.
He believed in fairy tales, but at least since that unflattering sight, he also believed in horror movies.
But she had a bag of white chocobos in her hand, smelled mega yummy like incense and a delicious vanilla latte macchiato. ... And had a Wolfgang Hohlbein book tucked under her arm.
Maybe he could close both eyes after all, instead of the bright red pimple on his nose, and maybe there would be chocolate for breakfast somehow after all.
Maybe...
Even if there would be drama with Tilda first.
EPILOGUE
"Don't tell me what you dreamed last night, for I have read Freud." Anonymous
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