SORRY CHLOE: YOU LOST!



"THAT'S NOT FAIR!" Chloe exclaimed as that bucket of really cold water hit her fully in the face and on her chest.

"I only got one answer wrong."

"Sorry Chloe, but one wrong answer is all it took."

Chloe Whitaker is my friend. Well, sometimes she's my friend. I guess you could call her an off-and-on friend. Well, maybe more like an on-and-off friend. Okay, so let's face it. Chloe Whitaker is my friend. And we've had a strange relationship to put it mildly. Whenever we get together one or even both of us, would usually get very, and I mean VERY messy. Ha!

Now, as my friend glared at me, I knew this was probably going to be a contentious day. Chloe, who normally doesn't mind getting messy just seems to have awakened on the wrong side of the bed.

"But how was I to know it was this Claude Auchinleck guy. Everybody knows who Monty was."

"Sorry Chloe, but the question was who commanded the British forces at the First Battle of El Alamein. Field Marshall Bernard Montgomery defeated the famed Erwin Rommel during the Second Battle of El Alamein. It was General Claude Auchlinleck who commanded British forces during the first battle."

As Chloe started to get her dander up, and start arguing, I butted in and shut her down.

"Come on, Chloe, you got it wrong. Admit it. And let's move on."

Have you ever heard the phrase, "if looks could kill, I would be dead." Ha! Well judging by the look of pure menace on my friend's face, I would have been dead, buried, and already decomposed. I knew there would be a messy retribution in the future. I don't think it was so much that Chloe was mad at me as it was, she was angry with herself for getting the wrong answer. There would be plenty of time for her to get pissed off at me, and boy did she ever! LOL!

But for now, today was mine. All mine.

And since she wasn't wearing a bra under her flimsy yellow top, when the two-and-a-half gallons of cold water hit Chloe, that shirt turned transparent, and her magnificent boobs stood out for everyone in the room to see. And that water had a profound effect on her nipples. As they popped to attention, I was staring at them just as much as every other guy in the room, and even many of the women. When Chloe had walked into the room, she looked absolutely stunning in the sheer yellow top, sans bra, and leather skirt. Now, dripping wet from that ten-liter bucket of water I had thrown on her, Chloe looked like a drowned cat. And I was loving it.

"Okay . . ." my friend practically spit out that word, "what's next?"

From under the counter, I pulled out an extra-large mixing bowl. This was a two-gallon bowl. And it was full, almost to the brink, with a light, milk-chocolate color thick liquid.

"Cake Batter . . . CAKE BATTER. That's cake batter," Chloe cried out. "How much did you make?"

"Five boxes," I replied calmly. "Five boxes of Betty Crocker's Chocolate Fudge cake mix."

"FIVE BOXES," Chloe almost choked on that. "Five fucking boxes. But you only get five things, TOTAL!"

"No, no, no," I said. That's not the terms of our deal. It was that I get to hit you with five things. There was never any mention of how large they could be.

"So, my first two choices were water and cake batter. I still have three more things to use."

"FUCK . . ." I saw a look of despair cross my friend's face. "Get on with it, then," she all but snarled.

As she gave me the meanest look ever, Chloe said, "But my turn will come. You wait and see. One of these days it will be MY turn."

You just wait, buddy boy. One of these days it will be MY turn. And then nobody, and I mean nobody, not even your own mamma will be able to recognize you.

That bowl held ten liters of the light brown muck. And as Chloe stoically sat on that chair, I slowly walked up behind her.

"Hurry Up, Bobby. Will you just get it done," she said in a plaintive tone.

She wanted it. So, I did it. And in the next instant, I upturned that bowl and dumped the entire contents of that chocolate muck onto her head and even her face as she, unfortunately, for her, had looked up at the wrong time.

"SHIT . . . You son-of-a . . . Oh Shit. I am so going to get you. One of these days. One of these days."

As Chloe sat there with chocolate running off her head and face, covering her wonderful boobs, which Chloe's wet shirt had shown off so well, I was already planning my next round of messy mayhem. And when I pulled out that large pot of chocolate custard, I saw my friend's eyes roll up in her head as if beseeching the heavens themselves to intervene.

"What the fuck is that Bobby," my friend whispered in a strangled voice, though she already knew.

"Oh, it's chocolate custard," I said, a big shit-eating grin planted on my face. "I know how much you love chocolate, Chloe."

Oh, this just keeps getting better every minute. Oh . . . I can't wait until I . . . FUCK!

"I hate you!"

"No, baby," I replied. "You don't really hate me. You just think you do right now."

I grinned a kind of smirky smile when I said that, knowing it would produce a verbal assault from my friend. And she did not disappoint.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Bobby. I can hate you whenever I choose to. And right now," Chloe paused to catch her breath, "right now, I choose to HATE you!"

But when I started to pour that chocolate custard, a darker, thicker kind of gunge, over Chloe's head, she all but exploded.

"You Fucking Son-of-a-Bitch! I am going to kill you!"

Oh you son-of-a-bitch, I am so going to enjoy trashing you. You just wait and see. One of these days, it will be my turn. One . . . of . . . these . . . days!

By the time I finished pouring that next round of mucky mess, Cloe's face was completely saturated with brown goo, of the lighter brown from the chocolate cake batter and then the darker slop from the custard.

And boy was she steaming. I think if she could have gotten away with murder, Chloe might really have killed me right then and there. Ha!

And then there was my favorite form of dishing out mucky mess to my good friend, the almost black-looking Hershey's Chocolate Syrup. And as I walked toward Chloe with that bowl of black slime, she all but came unglued.

Quickly standing up, Chloe pointed a grimy finger at that bowl of chocolate syrup and said "Oh no you don't. You are NOT going to pour that shit over my head!"

"Chloe," I said in a moderate tone, "a bet is a bet."

"You . . . but . . . but . . . OOH. Why me?" Chloe said as she looked skyward.

Why me . . . Why?

"Oh shit. I . . . Fuck." And then in a very low voice Chloe added, "This isn't fair."

With a resigned look on her mucky face, Choe looked at me and said, "Oh hell, go ahead and do it. You might as well get it over with."

As dark brown, slimy goo dripped off her chin and onto her already-covered boobs, my friend sat down on that messy chair and then turned her eyes toward me, almost as if daring me to do my best, or in this case, my worst. She pursed her lips and then in a totally tone-dead voice said, "Fuck You!"

Then she stuck out her tongue and actually winked at me, as I started the pour.

As that chocolate slime hit her head, Chloe shivered and quivered but this time she had a look of resolution on her grime-covered face and did not say a word.

Whereas before, when I dumped the entire contents of the messy slops on her head all at once,, I took my time with the Hershey's syrup. It took a good thirty seconds to empty that bowl of black slime over Chloe's head and face. But when I was done, she now had another messy layer of chocolate muck covering her head. Part of it flowed down and on to her boobs. I had to admire Chloe's composure, though.

Wow! She is amazing.

What else does he have for me? How much worse can this get? Shit! Why did I have to make that stupid bet?

Last but not least I picked up two cans of whipped cream. Every chocolate Sundae, or in this case, Chocolate-Covered Chloe, should be topped with whipped cream. LOL!

When Chloe saw the two cans of whipped topping she actually smiled. Knowing there would be no more messy chocolate, this definitely raised her spirits. And despite the coldness of that squirty cream over all the layers of messy muck that covered her head, Chloe continued smiling.

I emptied both cans of the white foam, creating a rather large mound of whipped cream on top of Chloe's chocolate-drenched features. And to top it off . . .

"Hey Chloe," I whispered in a mucky ear, while opening a jar of Maraschino cherries, "every chocolate-covered Sundae should be topped with whipped cream and a cherry. Even if it's a chocolate-covered Chloe. So . . . here is your cherry." And with that, I put the cherry right in the center of that white mound of mess on top of Chloe's chocolate covered head. Then I walked away, smiling.