I am ready to embrace the current dadministration's decision to invade mars. Not because I care one way or the other, but because I'm fantasizing about being on the rocket ship, around all that glorious white smoke. I picture myself riding underneath, sucking the burning snow-white smoke right out of those big rocket exhaust pipes. Let me bathe in rocket fuel, run inside the fading cloud puffs, walk the stream of smoke for miles, an endless tight rope.
To come down, it took a whole bag of Lindt Milk Chocolate balls, the ones in the red foil; ask for them by name.
I'm not talking about two or four. I'm talking a whole bag. I can't seem to stay awake. I am drowning in fine chocolate. And I don't care. I would have more, but they're all gone.
I'm fussy about my chocolate. Usually I hate the expensive kind. I like the milky kind, like the old Nestle bars in the red wrappers (not crunch, smooth) that I can't seem to find anymore. Like Dove milk chocolate. To me, no other candy bars are worth the effort it takes to chew them. Don't like brownies. Don't like chocolate ice cream much.
But oh lord, those Lindt balls tonight.
Lindt's milk chocolates are the closest thing I've found to my favorite childhood chocolate, which I also can't find anymore.
Do you remember them? Can you find me some? They were wrapped in foil, little squares of chocolate, and the dime stores sold them cold, out of the freezer, you'd take them home and put them in the freezer, and when they melted in your mouth, you were transported. Simply transported. Liquidy milky chocolate that plays with your tongue and toys with your teeth. WHAT MORE IS THERE?!
And tonight I was transported, I tell you. By those little red balls.
Tonight I thought I was the only freak on the planet who remembered Ice Cubes, craved them even. Then I checked Google and saw that there's a whole retro candy market. And a quick look at chocolate health facts tells me my Lindt balls might even be healthy for me.
The net is magical that way, isn't it?