Dive's mouth-watering, chocolate-covered post reminds me of a cocoa-related cautionary tale of my own:
When I was a kid, my parents went out once--I say "once" because I hardly ever remember their going out in the evening. On this rare occasion, they left me at home with my older sister. My older sister was quite the movie hound, as much as I was, and she settled in to watch something that didn't interest me. I set out to find chocolate.
There was a pull-out bread drawer in our kitchen that, along with bread, had treats my father used to pack his man-sized lunch for work every day. He kept things like Mars bars and Twinkies in this drawer, and while these things were not off limits to the rest of us, you wouldn't want to be the one to eat them and then have him find an empty drawer at lunch-making time. Besides being meant for his big, black, metal lunch box, these things were also a sign of prosperity. They were luxuries, and even when my father was laid off from work, which inevitably happened every winter, he would still make sure we had Twinkies and Mars bars. Life was good if those things were in the drawer.
So...while I hunted for chocolate, I knew to avoid the bread drawer and to look elsewhere. I scavenged through all the kitchen cabinets until I found a bar tucked away at the very top of the shelf in the cabinet that held the Jack Daniels whiskey--hidden there by my father for medicinal purposes. Seriously. He used it to make hot toddies when we were congested. I carefully unwrapped the chocolate bar and took just a portion, afraid that if I ate the whole thing, I would be accused of being self-indulgent, which a good Christian Midwestern girl never is.
I took a piece into the family room for my sister, and we watched the movie together.
When my parents returned, they asked what we did to amuse ourselves, and my sister told them about the chocolate I had found. My mother, curious because she wasn't aware we had any chocolate besides what was in the bread drawer, asked where I had found it. I climbed back onto the kitchen counter and produced the rest of the bar. Exlax. What did I know?
My mother was disturbed and made us drink water mixed with baking soda, hoping we would vomit before we emitted from the other end. My sister was so disgusted with me, but I swear to you, I had no idea.
I don't recall exactly, but I think we puked, in case you were wondering.
When I was a kid, my parents went out once--I say "once" because I hardly ever remember their going out in the evening. On this rare occasion, they left me at home with my older sister. My older sister was quite the movie hound, as much as I was, and she settled in to watch something that didn't interest me. I set out to find chocolate.
There was a pull-out bread drawer in our kitchen that, along with bread, had treats my father used to pack his man-sized lunch for work every day. He kept things like Mars bars and Twinkies in this drawer, and while these things were not off limits to the rest of us, you wouldn't want to be the one to eat them and then have him find an empty drawer at lunch-making time. Besides being meant for his big, black, metal lunch box, these things were also a sign of prosperity. They were luxuries, and even when my father was laid off from work, which inevitably happened every winter, he would still make sure we had Twinkies and Mars bars. Life was good if those things were in the drawer.
So...while I hunted for chocolate, I knew to avoid the bread drawer and to look elsewhere. I scavenged through all the kitchen cabinets until I found a bar tucked away at the very top of the shelf in the cabinet that held the Jack Daniels whiskey--hidden there by my father for medicinal purposes. Seriously. He used it to make hot toddies when we were congested. I carefully unwrapped the chocolate bar and took just a portion, afraid that if I ate the whole thing, I would be accused of being self-indulgent, which a good Christian Midwestern girl never is.
I took a piece into the family room for my sister, and we watched the movie together.
When my parents returned, they asked what we did to amuse ourselves, and my sister told them about the chocolate I had found. My mother, curious because she wasn't aware we had any chocolate besides what was in the bread drawer, asked where I had found it. I climbed back onto the kitchen counter and produced the rest of the bar. Exlax. What did I know?
My mother was disturbed and made us drink water mixed with baking soda, hoping we would vomit before we emitted from the other end. My sister was so disgusted with me, but I swear to you, I had no idea.
I don't recall exactly, but I think we puked, in case you were wondering.
Comments
Ick.
before you know it you've consumed a whole package and then you start to hear the rumble in your stomach.