Style, you
either have it or you
don't. And if you have it, you have it
all the time.Chocolate Covered Rogue
by Tux Toledo
Page 3
"Winston,
so nice to see you," he said. His beefy body betrayed his
obsessive love of food and his rotund and puffy face was a small
replica of his torso.
"Thanks for inviting me," I said.
"It wouldn't be the same without you."
"Am I to deduce from this chocolate tasting that your new interest in
life is chocolate?" I said.
"Indeed. I aspire to become a member of the Club des
Croqueurs de Chocolat, you see."
"The what?"
"The Club des Croqueurs de Chocolat. It is a famous
organization based in France comprised of people who absolutely adore
chocolate. I need two sponsors from within the organization
and I must complete a 12-part questionnaire. It's a very
difficult club to join but that is my aspiration. I will be
entertaining two gentlemen from France later this month, both members
of the Club. Tonight's tasting is sort of a dress rehearsal."
"I wish you success."
"Mercí," he said. "The tasting is here in my living
room. Come on in."
His body swiveled on its axis as he led me into a room the size of the
Astrodome. It was filled with a long table covered with a
white tablecloth. Rather reminiscent of the Last Supper,
actually.
Unsalted crackers and bottles of Evian water were strategically within
reach of each chair. Each place setting sported a
nametag. My place at the table was next to a man named Mort
Canard. He and his wife had not yet arrived.
"I would offer you a drink but I don't want to damage your papillae,"
Pierre said.
"I understand," I said. I didn't but at times one must make
allowances.
Pierre disappeared into his kitchen and I mingled with the other
guests. My tablemate and his wife were the last to arrive.
© 2008 David Biagini