Monday, July 18, 2005
Chocallure
They say Eve was tempted by Satan with an apple. I have always believed that they were wrong. I believe the instrument of the fall was Chocolate Cake. I know that was Satan's lure of deceit, in my case.
It was partly Mrs. Johanson's fault, too. She had the gall to put a chocolate icing, Devil's Food cake, right at counter level in her bakery on the corner. Then she compounded her crime by charging $2.50 for each pre- sliced portion. How was I suppose to afford two-fitty on my allowance?
I stood transfixed loking at the cake when I walked into her shop to buy an almond cookie for a paltry fifty cents. The cake, rather each slice called out my name in demonic seductiveness.
I recited every prayer of exorcism my Catholic training could muster. Unfortunately, to no avail. Finally I gave in. I was inspired by the Dark Lord to ask Mrs. Johanson to get a lemon fudge cookie, which I knew she stored in a back room. As she went to fetch the ruse, I quickly snagged a slice of cake and shoved it almost whole into my mouth.
Oh, the delicious pleasure. I had just about licked the last bit from my fingers, when a startled Mrs. J returned.
'Oh my Gawd! I hope you have $3.00 to cover the cost of the cake and the cookie?'
'What cake?', I exclaimed defensively.
'The cake which left the frosting on your nose.', she retorted.
Busted! 'I don't have $3.00. I only have seventy-five cents', I said ashamed, even as Lucifer whispered in my ear about my auntie's pills.
'It's my hypoglycemia. It screws up my thinking, if I don't have frequent meals of chocolate.'
I can still picture the veins in Mrs. J's neck bulging, as she turned red and her cheeks puffed up. She wasn't angry. She was trying to suppress a laugh. As her resolve crumbled, she convulsed into whatevere that would have been which would have rivaled Santa.
I don't know if it was the strength of my pleading, or that which grandma called my "nine year old's precious cuteness", in any event, Mrs. Johanson took my seveny-five cents and didn't tell my mother.
It was partly Mrs. Johanson's fault, too. She had the gall to put a chocolate icing, Devil's Food cake, right at counter level in her bakery on the corner. Then she compounded her crime by charging $2.50 for each pre- sliced portion. How was I suppose to afford two-fitty on my allowance?
I stood transfixed loking at the cake when I walked into her shop to buy an almond cookie for a paltry fifty cents. The cake, rather each slice called out my name in demonic seductiveness.
I recited every prayer of exorcism my Catholic training could muster. Unfortunately, to no avail. Finally I gave in. I was inspired by the Dark Lord to ask Mrs. Johanson to get a lemon fudge cookie, which I knew she stored in a back room. As she went to fetch the ruse, I quickly snagged a slice of cake and shoved it almost whole into my mouth.
Oh, the delicious pleasure. I had just about licked the last bit from my fingers, when a startled Mrs. J returned.
'Oh my Gawd! I hope you have $3.00 to cover the cost of the cake and the cookie?'
'What cake?', I exclaimed defensively.
'The cake which left the frosting on your nose.', she retorted.
Busted! 'I don't have $3.00. I only have seventy-five cents', I said ashamed, even as Lucifer whispered in my ear about my auntie's pills.
'It's my hypoglycemia. It screws up my thinking, if I don't have frequent meals of chocolate.'
I can still picture the veins in Mrs. J's neck bulging, as she turned red and her cheeks puffed up. She wasn't angry. She was trying to suppress a laugh. As her resolve crumbled, she convulsed into whatevere that would have been which would have rivaled Santa.
I don't know if it was the strength of my pleading, or that which grandma called my "nine year old's precious cuteness", in any event, Mrs. Johanson took my seveny-five cents and didn't tell my mother.
# posted by Victor Shanti @ 8:09 AM 
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