Chocolate? Did I do chocolate?
I remember I once had a fling with a girl who worked in a small chocolate shop, a very shallow shop, only about six feet deep. And every time a customer came in there was a sharp draught; the shop faced North, and the draught blew the chocolate dust off the dark rum truffles and enveloped the girl I was to fling with. Her name was Winifred. And by midday (the shop opened at nine AM) she was covered in truffle dust. Oh what a fling was that! It didn't last long but I have never forgotten. Like lots of flings it ended sadly. She had seen me in Little Shop of Horrors or perhaps Little Vault of Horrors, I can't remember which and was very taken. So I took her home, arm around her tiny waist: 18 inches! And we walked home and I remember sneezing ecstatically as she snuggled up up to me, choking me in in a cloud of truffle dust. I was never so happy, I mean I was ever so happy. I inhaled her dust and she inhaled it and then exhaled it back to me, oh, heaven. This was the bliss before the thunderclap. As we tottered into her tiny room in Blandford Street which is just off Baker Street I proposed to her. I mean I said to her; "May I make a proposal, Winny?" See how intimate we already were? Just then I sneezed violently and she fell backwards. Fortunately there was a sofa in just the right place and she fell into it. Oh! I thought I would expire with pleasure and I repeated: "Winny, may I......." But before I could finish she sprang up and said just let me have a quick shower, Tommy." I was thunderstruck. She was in and out of that shower in a trice. Oh, how cruel fate can be. Out she sprang, still a bit damp and threw herself into me. She was so pretty, so pretty, but that shower had washed away her magic. And suddenly I remembered a profound saying of my auntie Lil; "Remember dear, she said to me, "You can't make a silk purse out of a soused mackerel." How true, I thought, through my tears as I stumbled for the door. I never saw Winny again though I shall never forget that walk from South Moulton street to her eerie in Blandford Street just off Baker Street.
This little story is told to you in confidence, Mark.