I used to date this amazing, beautiful girl, we'll call her "C" (name withheld to protect the "not-so-innocent"). I also had two great roommates, Jamie & Spanky. Jamie was studying to be a doctor. Spanky had a mohawk, wore kilts with combat boots and well, was called Spanky. Now when you're 21 and living with 2 other guys, finding some alone time in the house with your special someone can be something of a challenge. Well one night, by some amazing miracle, Spanky had to work (he worked at Emo's with me) and Jamie was actually going to take a break from his studies and go out with his girl. Hallelujah! I couldn't believe it. So I got in touch with my lady "C" and let her know we would have the place to ourselves. Fast forward now to the good stuff. I'm with "C" and she and I get to the house, eagerly anticipating our youthful, saturated with lust opportunity of passion, and what happened next will forever be what can only be described as the "Mystery of the Death by Chocolate". We walked into what literally looked like a massacre crime scene at the Willie Wonka factory. Not exagerating one little bit. There was chocolate EVERYWHERE! On the frames of the doorways, on the floor, the refrigerator, I think even on one or two of the windows in the living room. Silent, our mouths agape we walked into Jamie's room...there are chocolate stains all over the sheets on his bed and all on the walls that his bed was up against. But it didn't stop there. Oh no. "C" and I were literally walking through the house together our jaws dropped in disbelief when we get to the bathroom (Dun Dun Da - ominous crime drama sound). The movie Psycho was well done and a good horror flick. But I personally believe that, even in black and white, had Hitchcock filmed whatever happened between my roommate Jamie, his girlfriend and that bottle of chocolate syrup instead of the shower scene we know the movie to be famous for, he wouldn't have been able to get a rating that would have allowed him to ever show that scene in public. There was chocolate in our shower that we couldn't even reach if we had wanted to clean it up. We had a clear plastic shower curtain that now looked like a chocolate canvas done by Jackson Pollack. Chocolate hand smears onthe vanity mirror and our beautiful porcelain sink looked like Milton Hershey himself had been slain there. I suddenly knew why Jamie and his girlfriend went out that night. Because whatever they did to create that scene must have created an appetite for the both of them that no standard refrigerator could sate. No they would have to go out to a place with greater supplies and resources to accomodate that kind of caloric loss. "C" and I ogled in disbelief for quite awhile at what we had come home to and I think we each spent more time than we should have envisioning what actually took place to cause this chocolate horror scene. Ultimately, once the initial shock of what we walked into wore off, we were actually able to enjoy our rare and special time alone together. But don't kid yourself, the memory from that evening has to go to my studious, good boy-gonna be doctor of a roommate who stole the show with his episode of mystery and sexual intrigue in the now infamous memory of "Death by Chocolate".
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