After waiting three days on a man named Peanut to take me on a romantic date I sadly concede he was a fig newton of my imagination. I feel blue. I go to the Winn Dixie in Victoria Park and get the 8-piece fried chicken deal for $6.99. The chicken gets eaten with the quickness, with hot sauce, ’cause that’s how we do it 3rd Ward Magnolia ya heard?
I consider the ice cream, cookie dough, chocolate cake, bread pudding…finally settling on the somewhat generic-looking Carnation fudge make-it-yourself box that the store has on display. The box says everything included, just need butter. Makes 1 1/2 pounds of fudge.
Back in my humble abode, after I lick the hot sauce off my fingers, I bring 1/2 pound of sugar, a can of condensed milk and sweet cream butter to a boil, then add a bag of marshmallows and a bag of chocolate chips, stirring it until it’s all melted up. I pour it into the pan and pop it in the fridge.
Two hours later I commence to eating fudge, fudge, fudge. I am like Edmund with his Turkish Delight, I eat more, more please, some milk, fudge, fudge…I think it has medicinal properties? That’s what somebody told me anyways…
So now it’s 8 p.m. on Saturday night, I have eaten 1.5 pounds of fudge, my belly is trying to stick out, I feel fat, ugly, juicy…definitely, certainly not going to a gay bar tonight. Peanut it’s your fault, for being an emotionally…and also physically…unavailable man. I promise to get up early Sunday and start trolling the internet for a new man, well technically a man since one hasn’t materialized in Fort Lauderdale as yet…maybe the new guy can do something about his boyfriend’s ignorant eating habits…
The Queen let another drop fall from her bottle on to the snow, and instantly there appeared a round box, tied with green silk ribbon, which, when opened, turned out to contain several pounds of the best Turkish Delight. Each piece was sweet and light to the very center and Edmund had never tasted anything more delicious.
Edmund tried to remember that it is rude to speak with one’s mouth full, but he soon forgot about this and thought only of trying to shovel down as much Turkish Delight as he could, and the more he ate the more he wanted to eat, and he never asked himself why the Queen should be so inquisitive.