I AM A GROWN MAN WHO LOVES HIS CHOCOLATE
ANIMALS.
There, I said it. And never again will I
hide behind the assumption that I am purchasing a huge block
of chocolate—in this case, fashioned into the shape of one of
the teen’s heads from High School Musical—for a nonexistent
child, if only to spare myself the indignity and embarrassment
that enjoying an entire hollow block of cocoa Vanessa Hudgens
would cause due to my advanced age. NEVER AGAIN, I TELL YOU.
WHILE YELLING FOR DRAMATIC EFFECT.
An example: I
brought a huge hollow Easter egg and said bust of chocolate to
the Zellers counter for purchase earlier today, and the young
lass working the checkout soon began to flirt with me—due to
my combined charm and deceptive handsomeness—eventually
culminating in her curiously inquiring as to why I was doing
my Easter shopping for my children at the last minute.
I of course then answered without a shred of reservation that
I had no children, occasionally hunted them for sport,
and that this entire bounty was for me—and me alone; and that
perhaps I would also hide it first, because that’d be like the
awesomest shit ever. Only communists know exactly where their
chocolate is.
Now, this revelation did not register the
reaction I was expecting of “Yes! I think that’s great!
Fuck the children. They get too much as it is. Enjoy your
chocolate you sexy stud, and maybe save enough to melt down
into a warm liquid paste in which you can devour from my naked
heaving body.”I may be paraphrasing here. But the feeling
of shame was one I did not enjoy. I felt horrible. Her
reaction of instant disgust and ultimate judgment ruined my
day. Almost to the point where I was unable to repeatedly
masturbate to her.
I guess what I am saying is, why
can’t a grown man eat the entire head of a teenage idol and
not be vilified and judged for it? Is that wrong? Am I not
supposed to do that? I cannot be alone. There has to be some
people out there, who like me, buy themselves a plethora of
children’s Easter treatery, in which they then disgustingly
consume with zero guilt. I refuse to believe that there is no
one else out there like me. Great people. People who refuse to
concede childhood carelessness, greed and gluttony for being
“responsible”, “mature” and “not wedging their entire 200
pound full-grown frame into the Mayor McCheese metallic
endoskeleton in the Mickie D’s play-land, just because they
can.”
So, ADMIT IT. JOIN ME. Admit your adult love of
childish chocolate treats and vindicate my existence. Kind of.
Thank you.
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