THIS MEANS WAR: A Chocolate Lover's Delight


"You're enjoying this, Bobby . . . AREN'T YOU?" My best friend, Bagheera, shouted at me. She was my long-standing friend. And though, living far apart, we tried to get together as much as possible. And when we did, one of us, and quite often both of us, got really messy, or muddy, or both. HA!

On this occasion, there had been a bet, a messy bet. And Bagheera's team had lost their soccer match to Manchester United F.C., my team. As a result, Bagheera had to suffer through a series of messy forfeits. And I had just administered the first forfeit, a really gooey chocolate pie to her face.

As chocolate goo dripped, from Bagheera's mucky face, onto the white fabric of the Real Madrid jersey, her favorite soccer team, I saw how it made a very sharp contrast to the white color as the brown muck ran down her torso until coming to a rather abrupt stop where Bagheera's more than ample breasts jutted out as if in defiance to the entire universe. I also saw where her nipples, fully enlarged, and hard as a rock, were sticking out as if they were a pair of daggers trying to cut their way to freedom.

Wow! She looks especially hot today.

"Well . . . yes. Now that you mention it, Bagheera, I am enjoying the show," I replied with a mischievous grin on my face. "I am enjoying it very much."

"Oh . . . go bite me, you son-of-a-bitch."

But I could tell Bagheera wasn't really angry at me. She was pissed off that she lost the bet. Bagheera was like me. She didn't mind getting messy. Or as I've always said, 'I don't mind getting messy, as long as I get you just as messy.' Bagheera just didn't like to lose, at anything. AND, she didn't like the fact that this was at work and all her co-workers would see her get trashed. Ha!

Actually, I think I would rather lick that chocolate off you.

"I think I'll pass on that . . . at least for now." Smiling mischievously, I added, "Maybe later I might lick that mess off your boobs, if you need any help getting cleaned up. Ha!"

The wager on yesterday's game was that the winner could have his or her choice of five messy substances to really trash their opponent. And I had picked chocolate pies as the first of my choices.

"So, Bagheera, I have chosen twelve chocolate pies as the first of my five substances to . . ."

"Wait a minute. WAIT JUST ONE DAMN MINUTE," Bagheera shouted. "You only get five, you son-of-a . . ."

But I cut off Bagheera's tirade, "No, that's not the way it goes, honey. And you know it."

"The wager stipulated that the winner . . . ME got to pick five substances to use on the loser, You, and I chose chocolate pies as one of my substances. Nothing was said about how many pies I could use. So, I decided to use twelve of them on you."

"You've done worse to me," I continued, "and if you want to be honest, and I let that word stand out . . . HONEST . . ., "you know I'm right."

"I . . . I . . ." I could see Bagheera eyes rolling upward, which is what she did when giving serious thought to something. As she subtly licked some of the chocolate goo from her upper lip, I saw a sardonic smile cross her mucky face.

Bagheera shrugged her shoulders, rolled her head, and then smiled at me. "Okay, so you got me there. I'll admit you're right."

"But are you really going to hit me with a dozen pies," Bagheera added before I could say something. "That seems like overkill to me."

Bagheera batted her eyes while giving a twisted pout to her mucky face, something I had learned she always did when trying to get her way.

"Yes dear. I am. And I have them all prepared for you." I said as I rolled out a three-tier serving cart, loaded down with big, gooey, dark brown, chocolate pies. And each pie shell had at least two full inches of chocolate pudding. They were really messy. Ha!

Oh shit!

"Bobby, you're not REALLY going to do that to me . . . ARE YOU?"

Once again, my mischievous friend tried all of her womanly wiles on me. From a smile to a seductress look, to a pout and finely a bewildered look. Bagheera had practiced them all on her dad as she grew up. But they did not work on me.

Oh, she tried her last trick of the trade, a haughty look and a "You wouldn't DARE" command, but I wound up just like a star pitcher from my favorite Major League baseball team, the Pittsburgh Pirates, and from a distance of six feet, I let her have it.

With a ringing SPA-LATTTT, that chocolate pie took Bagheera squarely in the face. As the crust broke up, chocolate goo flew everywhere. Bagheera's face and most of her scalp was inundated with chocolate slop. The front of her neck and even as far south as her boobs, also took a healthy dose of that brown muck. Putting it mildly, Bagheera was a complete mess. And I couldn't help but laugh at the look of sheer bewilderment that radiated from her mucky face.

"Son-of-a-Fucking-bitch . . . ooh . . . ooh . . . you just wait until I get you back. When it's my turn, I will . . . ooh . . ."

But I silenced Bagheera with a second mucky missile of mess, only this time I hand-delivered it. And just like that, even more chocolate gunge flowed down and over my girlfriend's face. She was an absolute mess, and she was livid.

"You Fucking Bastard. I'm going to get you for that."

I listened, as my friend continued her tirade from behind a mucky mouth of chocolate pudding.

Boy, she can sure cuss like a sailor. My drill sergeant would have been impressed with some of her expletives.

"Are you listening to me, you son-of-a-bitch. I'm talking to you."

"You're not even LISTENING to me, ARE YOU, BOBBY?"

"Yeah, I'm listening to you, Bagheera," I said disinterestedly. "I'm just NOT paying attention to you."

"Oh, you fucking bastard. I ought a . . ."

But I interrupted Bagheera's latest round of verbal bombast.

"Oh, I am so sorry," I said, putting my hands to my face, as if in shock. "Where are my manners. You must be hungry. Why don't you let me give you a sandwich." This last said with a whimsical grin.

"I'm not hungry," Bagheera exclaimed. "And I don't want no stupid sand . . ."

"What are you doing," my friend asked in a worried tone."

"Oh, you wouldn't," Bagheera said when she saw what I was holding in each hand.

"Noooooo," she said, as Bagheera tried to back away.

"You wouldn't DARE!"

SPA-LATTTTTT!!!

But I did. I dared. And I let her have it.

They call it a pie sandwich. You hit the target on both sides of the face, simultaneously. And then you smear the muck all around. By the time I had finished mucking up Bagheera, not one square inch of her face, and indeed even most of her head, remained unscathed. Bagheera was a complete mess. Ha! It would get worse.

"Oh, you son-of-a . . . you bastard . . . you . . . you, oh I'm going to get you. I am so going to get you . . ."

SPLATTTT!!!

But I caught my girlfriend mid-sentence with another of those gooey monsters of muck. From two feet away, I just, kind of, casually, tossed that pie into her face. More chocolate goo ran down, off her face, and onto her impressive boobs. I'll tell you, that jersey was taking a real beating. And then, I took it one step further. Ha!

I picked up another pair of those bodacious chocolate monsters of muck.

"WHAT," Bagheera said in a condescending tone, "are you going to give me another pie sandwich, Bobby!"

"Nope," I said as I winked at her. "But," and I let it drag out for a little dramatic pause, "it's become rather obvious from the way that gooey jersey is sticking to your, uh, assets, that you are not wearing a bra," after a pause, I continued, "so I just thought I would help you."

I snickered at the mention of Bagheera's 'assets' which drew a stormy look from my girlfriend and a round of laughter from the crowd of onlookers. Then I slammed those two chocolate pies onto her tits. And I ground them in really good. Ha! I slathered that chocolate muck all around her impressively large breasts. I even smeared the chocolate goo down onto Bagheera's stomach and further south if you get my drift. HA!

"OH FUCK! You son-of-a-bitch. I'm going to get you for that, REALLY get you. You just wait and see!"

Bagheera was steaming, Really steaming mad. You remember the old Bugs Bunny cartoon. Whenever Yosemite Sam got really mad at Bugs, he would have this big black, almost boiling, cloud form over his head and you knew he was really steamed. Bagheera was that way. I do believe if looks could kill, I would have been dead, buried, and decomposed. Ha!

Bagheera was a mess, a complete mess. And yet, I had only hit her with seven pies. Oh wow! It's going to get so much better, I thought to myself.

Another pie to her face caused Bagheera to stumble, and in trying to regain her balance, she bent over. And I just couldn't resist the temptation. HA!

SPLATTTT!!!

With an extra-loud splat, I popped another of those gooey chocolate pudding pies onto Bagheera's butt. It sounded like a high-powered rifle going off.

"OUCH! YOU FUCKING BASTARD! That hurt," my girlfriend said as she stood up and started rubbing that magnificent ass to lessen the sting. "I am SO going to get you for that."

I couldn't help but laugh, though I knew her butt was probably stinging a good bit. And I did feel just a tad bit bad for causing her pain. But then I remembered times she had done worse things to me. And then my commiseration went away. HA!

With anger in her eyes, Bagheera turned toward me. But I stopped her movement in the tracks when I slammed a pie into that magical region on a woman, where her legs come together, that commands so much attention from men. And I ground it in, but good.

"How DARE you!" Bagheera growled in an indignant tone. "I'm going to . . ."

But I cut her off and responded, "How dare I? How dare I, did you say?"

"Let me show you how I dared," I said. And then I plopped another of those gooey messes of chocolate down onto the top of Bagheera's head. As dark chocolate gunge splattered all over her beautiful dark brown hair, I said, "I just thought you needed a hat . . . you know, so your head wouldn't get cold."

As that chocolate slop ran down all sides of Bagheera's head and flowed over her shoulders, she made a snide remark as if it would hurt me. "Yeah, well you can just Kiss . . . My . . . Fucking . . . Ass. I am so going to get you for this."

As chocolate goo covered almost all of Bagheera's head and in fact most of her upper body, I said, "That was only round one, Bagheera."

OH Fuck!

"I am so in for it," Bagheera whispered just loud enough for me to hear, but nobody else.

And I leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Yes . . . you are!"

And with that, I reached under a table and pulled out a big bowl of chocolate pudding. There must have been at least three or four gallons of the brown muck in that bowl.

Bagheera saw it, and silently mouthed the words, Oh Fuck!

Striding quickly to Bagheera, I upturned that bowl and dumped the entire contents onto my girlfriend's head. And since she looked up, at precisely the wrong time, Bagheera took all that chocolate slop squarely in her face. With a loud splatting sound, that chocolate muck completely inundated her face. And this ratcheted up her 'pissed off at the world meter' to a 9.8 scale. Oh, was she so pissed.

"Oh, you fucking asshole. I am so going to get you. Just, you wait and see. The next time that I win, I will trash you so badly your own mama won't recognize you."

But I just reached over and scooped up some of that chocolate goo that was still dripping off Bagheera and then plopped it back onto her face.

"HA!" I said. Then I took a quick taste of the chocolate as I licked it off Bagheera's lips. "Hmm, You do taste good. I might have to take you up on that kind offer."

"What kind offer are you talking about?" Bagheera said in an anything but kind tone.

I grinned as I said, "you know when you said, 'Bite me!'"

"Oh . . . ooh . . . Fuck you, Bobby!"

"Yeah, you just wait. Wait until I WIN. Then we'll see who tastes good."

Still, as I looked back when I went to pick up the round three mess, I saw Bagheera licking her lips. Hmm!

The next big mess was a lot, as in a lot of mess. There were ten gallons of chocolate cake batter in the biggest bucket I had ever seen. "Oh, wow," I exclaimed as I picked up that bucket. This is a lot of cake batter. I said a silent word of thanks to my friends who had taken the time to make all that slop. And that is exactly what it was. Chocolate slop in a huge quantity was going to fall on my friend's head, once again. And I couldn't wait. Ha!

I had to climb a stepladder in order to get into position for dumping all that chocolate cake batter over Bagheera's head. It took all my strength to lift that bucket. It was so heavy.

"Hey Bagheera," I said at one point. "Do you mind giving me a hand with this bucket."

"Go FUCK YOURSELF," Bagheera said, as her eyes lit up. "If you think I am going to help you with that, you've got another thought coming."

Fuck that shit, Buddy Boy. Go ahead and have your laugh. But one of these days, one of these days, it will be my turn to laugh. You just wait and see.

Well, I made it. But it took a while to get to the top of the small ladder. And since she copped such an attitude, I didn't wait at all, not one little bit. I whistled, and as Bagheera looked up, I tilted that big bucket of gooey brown muck, and all that chocolate cake batter flew straight down and into her upturned face, because once again, Bagheera had looked up at the wrong time.

"Pbbt, pbbt, fuck . . . pbbt, pttuie, pbbt . . . oh shit. You fucking bastard!"

Oh, that fucking bastard. I am so going to get him.

As all ten gallons of that brown slop slammed into Bagheera's unprepared face, she was driven to her knees. And yet, it didn't stop there. As I kept pouring that slime down on my girlfriend, she was transfigured into a golden brown statue of what pure rage looked like on a woman. As Bagheera knelt there in all that chocolate gunge, she became angrier and angrier. And despite the several coatings of chocolate muck, her rage shown through like a beacon on a dark stormy night. As my baby became transfixed into a living work of art, I became so enraptured by what was going on. And I guess I had to be a smartass. I just couldn't help myself.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Bagheera. I forgot your birthday, so I made you a birthday cake." But I did not say, I 'baked' her a birthday cake. Ha!

"Birthday cake my ass," Bagheera said "You didn't BAKE me a cake, you poured batter all over me. My damned jersey is ruined now. Completely ruined. And you did it . . . ooh . . . I am so going to get you."

"Well, it's the thought that counts," I said with an impish grin plastered on my face.

"Fuck you, and your thoughts!"

"Oh wait," I said, "I forgot the frosting."

"But you didn't even bake me a cake, you fucking moron. You poured . . . that fucking batter all over me."

"Well," I said feigning surprise, "a cake still needs frosting." And before she could respond I picked up a rather large bowl of what looked like sloppy mud.

"What's that . . ."

But before she could finish her sentence, I reached into that bowl and grabbed a big handful of the gooey muck. And then, I smeared it all over Bagheera's face adding another layer of dark brown gunge to her already disheveled facial features.

"What the fuck . . ."

But before she could get anything else out, I had already grabbed another handful, and this one, too, helped to further destroy what had started the day as a perfectly made up human face. Now, however, Bagheera looked like a dark brown, muck bomb had exploded over her head. Then to further add to her humiliation I tilted that bowl over Bagheera's head and let the rest of the liquefied frosting fall on her head.

Now, she really started cussing me out, but there was still one more level of muckiness for me to impart upon Bagheera's goo-drenched body.

And without further ado, I lifted a huge bucket of Hershey's chocolate syrup, which I had hidden behind a counter, and poured it all over Bagheera's head. Sixty pounds of brown, so dark as to almost appear black, chocolate syrup rained down on Bagheera's head. As the contents from eight, super-large, jugs of Hershey's syrup fell upon Bagheera, first her head, then her shoulders, then her lovely boobs were completely encased in chocolate goo. When I was done, not one square inch of Bagheera's body had escaped my messy assault. HA!

As I stood there, looking upon the messy masterpiece of muck that I had created, I almost started feeling sorry for Bagheera. As she stood there shivering from all the cold chocolate upon her body, it was obvious that my friend was demoralized.

Maybe I went too far. I thought to myself. But then I remembered the times she had trashed me so much worse. Nope! I don't think so. HA!

I grinned at my friend. "Well, Bagheera, it looks like your jersey didn't fare any better than your team did."

"Oh, you go fuck yourself," she replied rather tartly. "But I WILL get you back. You just wait and see."

And as she turned to leave, I called out softly, "Hey Bagheera."

"WHAT," Bagheera said rather snippily as she whirled around to face me.

I slapped that final chocolate pudding pie into my girlfriend's face. I had been saving it for last.

"Nothing. Oh, nothing at all," I said. "Have a good day, Bagheera!"

But I knew from the stormy cloud that crossed over her mucky face that messy retribution was in store for me.