Fwd: See the rainbow. Taste the rainbow. Now eat his chocolate friend.

                 See the rainbow. Taste the rainbow. Now eat his chocolate friend.


"Honey what did you do with the leftover Halloween candy?" My wife asks in a yelling kind of accusing way as she slammed open and closed kitchen cabinet doors and drawers in need of a sugar fix.
I manage to swallow the soft chewy caramel centred chocolate bar and through calorie laden teeth yelled "Who's Al O'Ween? Honey leapt over Al O'Ween's caddy? Never heard of him. Who does he caddy for?" This buys me time in the living room  as I try to clear the crime scene of incriminating evidence. Wrappers, foil, cups, tiny boxes, little bags and peanuts with the chocolate sucked off of them.
"No dufass!  HALLOWEEN,.. HALLOWEEN CANDY! Where?" She corrects as she rounds the corner to the crime scene.
And here let me set the record straight that when she entered there was not a chalk outline of me on the hardwood floor but by the end of our conversation,....no, inquest, I would totally expect there could be one.
I had been caught with my hand in the candy jar. No really, I couldn't get it out. If I'd of been smart enough to let go of the 'Mars' bar I could of, but chocolate makes me dumb. Plus in my haste to wipe clean the crime scene the back of my other hand was covered in chocolate. I'd used it to wipe sweet sticky evidence away from around my mouth from ear to ear.
"Oh Halloween,....." I pause. I realized that Halloween cannot be said without showing ones teeth. And I realized that she probably can't see my teeth as there is a thick layer of caramel and chocolate making one great big brown coloured un-toothy grin. I try to recover, realizing my mistake and say "Hallowan? Let me tink." I say this through teeth that are easily stuck together.
"Gigs up Willy Wonka! Hand em over!" I pass her the soggy un-laden chocolate peanuts and the empty candy jar with my fist in it.
She talked me down from the 'Mars' bar and I was able to remove my hand. This was then followed by ten minutes of 'What did you do? How could you? Think of your health. Why would you treat your body this way?' And the ever popular ' I could kill you!' I took comfort in the word could, because it wasn't should. I was safe for now.
I tried to defend my actions as best I could. But it sounded all so empty through my dumb  chocolate grin, all the while licking off the back of my hand, like a cat, and trying to justify my unthinking selfish ways. I then asked her, and I probably shouldn't have, if I could have that last 'Mars' bar back.
Then the word could didn't change to should but rather gonna. "I'm gonna to kill you! Or should I just let the chocolate do it for me?" I voted for the chocolate and she left with her arms in the air. " Like ya just don't care." I fool heartily added. It's the chocolate talking.
I take her departure as approval to me having the last chocolate bar. I figure if she had wanted it she would of stayed.
I blame the chocolate for my behaviour. It makes me dumb. So dumb that I justify small amounts of its creamy goodness over many and long periods of time as harmless. One little bit here, and another here and one little bit more........All good. It isn't until a couple of weeks later, when things get a bit tight and pinching that you say 'It's the dryers fault.'
Why can't they invent fat that makes you fat right away? Don't make me full! Make me fat! Then  the ten little candy bars I was thinking of eating, after the first five, might live to see another day. I want to know the damage now, not a month from now as I'm kicking my hat to the curb so I can pick it up easier.
We live in a world of instant gratification. We want everything now. Can't afford it? Charge it! Take that trip. Buy that outfit. You deserve it, have it all now. That is all except fat, and the removal there of. It sneaks up on you then stays forever.
My kindergarten class - class of 1960 - is having a reunion. I can't go! I've gained 150 lbs. since those crazy days. How could I justify the weight gain? "Well yes I've gained a few but I now know my phone number and can tie my shoes, if I could see them."
If they can't invent a way to make you fat right away then they should find a way to streamline fat removal. If I waddle up a flight of stairs I want an instant way of knowing that this is better than taking the elevator for my health. Not me gasping for air as I'm puking my guts out on the top step thinking this is good for me. Feel the burn. It's called stomach acid.
But my pleas go unheard, for the scientific world makes fortunes from feeding frenzies of fat fools. Hearts that stop on a dime and arteries clogged up tighter than a hair ball in the Kardashian's plumbing makes companies like Phizer very wealthy. No it will take the fashion world to bring rolie and polie back to make me enjoys this time of year again. Fashion must be ready for a change, enough with the skinny! How many models have to fall down road drains before something is done about it.
Now's the time fashion world! From October to January it's  Thanksgiving then Halloween then Thanksgiving again -- if you speak American-- Christmas, Hanukah and several other merry and happy times.  And then to top it all off, New Years. And all of them to the tune of food which impede my progress of making the top stair. So then I make a  resolution to eat better at the start of every year. Here we go again. Ten days of trying, and 355 days of guilt. All thanks to making the stairs so high and Calvin Klein!
"Honey I'm sorry you can have the last,....last half the 'Mars' bar. And the peanuts have dried out a bit more now. You're absolutely right, you can kill me instead of the chocolate if it'll make you happy. You were kidding,...right? BUUURRRP whoa! Feel the burn, taste the burn. Must be getting healthy.

Bob Niles