A Chocoholic-gift For A Chocoholic

A Chocoholic-gift is too good for most. When you smell it, you want it. When you taste it you want more of it. My friend coined a phrase. "I like it, I love it. And I want some more of it." I wouldn't have ever imagined in my wildest dreams that I am addicted to chocolate; I don't smoke, drink alcohol and I don't really have any negative vices that I know of. I looked into my past to find the truth of the matter, and it is absolutely true, no two ways about it. My mother tells me that when I was three, she would always hold me on her hip when she was cooking or she would put me in a highchair (not fun, not fun at all). Although, when I am in the chair she either gives me a toy or something to eat (the good part). I can almost remember the first time watching her bake a chocolate cake. I found out years later that she was a baker (or a bakeret). Any way, I watched her every move, she got some eggs, flower, sugar, vanilla and this little contraption to blend the ingredients. After that she puts the batter into pans and puts them into the oven. Another good part starts. She gives me the spoon and bowl that had the batter in, and I went to town. A few minutes latter she cleaned me up. All the time I am smelling something that smells like daddy before he leaves to go to work. It smells like something that I should eat. She puts me back into the highchair (and I'm bewildered as to what is that smell is?). Craning to see what she is doing with the stove, she pulls the oven door to reveal the layers of the cake. She then puts each of them one on top of the other. Then she went to the refrigerator and produces my favorite playmate, a bottle. Watching her every move she gets that contraption again and mixed these ingredients, some milk and some brown flower. She then puts her pinky finger into the bowl and into her mouth while saying mmm'mm. At that point, I lost all control and fumbled and dropped my friend to the floor. After picking up my friend she did another replay with the pinky finger except she put that brown stuff right into my mouth. Only the best sensation I ever tasted. I know why my mom said mmm'mm. That was my first word and since that time, I would not drink milk unless it was chocolate. To make a long story short, two years latter, I grew a lot of teeth. Every week my pop would give us an allowance. The idea was to save the money. Of course, I have other ideas for my allowances. You guessed it, chocolate. When I go to the corner store and get to the register, there are all kinds of chocolate to choose from. Chocolate, mint marble, dark chocolate some with nuts (scrumptious), filled with caramel, milk chocolate center rapped with dark chocolate mmm'mm. This place is chocolate heaven. I only recently learned that there are two types of chocolate ice cream. One is used for ice cream cones and the other is used for floats and malts. The soda jerk gave me a comparison test and the ice cream that is used for malts is the creamiest. When I was like eight or nine, I made a promise to myself that when I get grown, I'm going to buy a box of three musketeers and eat each and every one of them by my self. That promise still stands to this day. I have eaten a box of them but I haven't eaten all bar from the same box. I am looking forward to that day. That reflection into my past confirms my suspicions. That Chocoholic-gift didn't just walk away, I ate it. That Chocoholic-gift really had no chance. Any Chocoholic-gifts in my house are mine. I confess, my name is Chris and I am indeed a chocoholic and proud of it.