Millard Jones was not a very passionate man.
He was thirty eight, had never been in a relationship, had no interest in the arts or sports and was not one for exploring his inner worlds.
He was overweight but not unattractive and had his life filed and mapped out by routines and time efficiency.
He did have one secret desire that no one knew of not even his mum, who rang him each night to make sure he was warm and well.
Millard Jones secret passion was chocolate.
He was in love with chocolate and thought it must surely be better than sex, of which he had had no experience.
On Friday nights in the privacy and comfort of his little flat by the river, when most of his work colleagues, in fact most of the city were out getting sloshed, stoned and trying to find their way home, Millard Jones would sit in his lounge room in his favourite armchair, dressed in his favourite pyjamas, his feet in his favourite slippers, his bum on his favourite water bottle and laid out before him on his favourite coffee table were his ten favourite chocolate bars.
Each was a savouring, quivering, sensual experience that filled him with untold depths of dripping desire.
He would eat his least favourite the Nutty Snackers, first. He would then continue up the line until he reached his most favourite, the Sweet Dreams choclate bar, which he always saved until last.
After his gustational feast, Millard Jones would feel sated and retire to bed and sleep.
A sleep in which there were never any dreams, a sleep as boring as the life of Millard Jones.
But this night was to be different, a night that would change Millard Jones forever.
While waiting for sleep to take him into the nothingness of nothing, Millard Jones tried to ignore the uneasy queasiness that he was feeling in his stomach.
Perhaps he had caught something from one his work colleagues or from a passerby on the train he took to work and back. Perhaps he was dying from an incurable disease or maybe a huge, slippery parasite was living in his stomach, slowly eating away his insides over time.
Normally such thoughts would prevent a person from going to sleep but not Millard Jones, his mind was set to fall asleep at the same time every night which it did despite the concerns Millard Jones had for his upset stomach.
It didn’t occur to Millard Jones that the reason for his queasy state was that his most favourite chocolate bar had been accidently contaminated at the factory with an overdose of a very powerful artificial sweetener called Neotame.
The machine operator had not noticed this occurrence while he day dreamed about his upcoming holidays at his uncles caravan park.
Neotame is an unusual artificial sweetener.
In a controlled dose, it has the ability to satisfy sugar cravings but too much and it causes serious nocturnal hallucinations and this is what was happening to Millard Jones.
At first Millard Jones was unsure where he was.
He couldn’t remember hopping out of bed but he must have because he was in his kitchen making toast.
“How odd” he thought to himself as the smell of burnt toast reached his nostrils.
He was about to spread some butter on the toast when he heard a voice behind him.
“If you value you life Millard Jones, throw that piece of floosy out of this house at once”.
Millard Jones turned around and almost chocked in disbelief as he saw a life size Sweet Dream chocolate bar standing in the kitchen doorway with its hands on its hips and a sour expression on its.... face?
“No. No. This can’t be happening, it isn’t real. No. No. I must be dreaming. Hang on a minute, I never dream. I must be sick and have a fever. That’s it. That’s what’s happening and I’m not really in my kitchen and a six foot Sweet Dream chocolate bar is not talking to me. If I just close my eyes and open them again. It will all be gone and I’ll find that I’m still in bed. Sick with fever.”
All of these thoughts tumbled through the ordered mind of Millard Jones.
“Well I’m waiting for an explanation Millard” the chocolate bar said in a voice littered with threatening undertones.
“Ah..... about what?” asked Millard who found the fact that he must be dreaming as unbelievable as the Sweet Dream chocolate bar standing in front of him.
“About what!” screamed the chocolate bar, “about catching you flirting with a common piece of toast! That’s what!”
“I am not a common piece of toast. I am made from the finest grains grown in the pristine air of the mountainous kingdom of Egrettia, I’ll have you know” said the indignant piece of toast Millard Jones had been about to spread with butter.
“I don’t care where you come from you two bit cheap piece of toast trash. That’s my husband and you’re not going to take him away from me!” the chocolate bar said in icy tones.
“Uh....hang on a second. Husband? I’m your husband?” said Millard Jones with further disbelief.
“Of course you are dear, why would you ask such a question? I know you had a big knock on the head today but surely that hasn’t affected your memory, has it?” asked the Sweet Dream chocolate bar in a concerned voice.
When Millard Jones didn’t answer, the chocolate bar went on.
“I am your wife Millard. We’ve been married for twenty two years.... remember? We met in a grocery store. You had just bought some groceries and saw me by the counter. I was just new and a bit unsure of myself but you picked me up and said I was absolutely beautiful.
You said you adored me and would marry me on the spot if I would agree.
I said yes immediately and we were married that day.......for better or worse......till death do us part..... remember?”
Millard Jones stared at the blue and white lino of his kitchen floor as his mind whirled about in uncertainty and confusion.
Where once his mind was an ordered system of files for all things in his life, it was now a chaotic mess. Everything was in disarray, files and such were scattered about and thrown all over the place, mixed with incompatible beginnings and unfinished endings.
He tried to gather them all together and re-file them but it was a hopeless task as he could no longer make any sense of it all.
The ordered sanity of his mind was now in utter bedlam.
“Well don’t just stand there, throw out that trashy piece of toast and come to bed and I might just forgive you.” said the Sweet Dream chocolate bar.
Millard Jones stopped staring at the floor and walked out of the kitchen without a word.
As he stood in the hallway contemplating his sanity, he heard his chocolate bar wife say to the piece of toast in the kitchen,
“Right you, you’ve done enough damage. It’s time for you to go.”
“Oh yeah?” replied the piece of toast, “and how are you going to make me?”
The sound of a sharp kitchen knife could be heard as it was drawn hissing from its holder.
“Now just wait a minute....” said the piece of toast, “there’s no need for anything drastic. We were just talking and I had an desire to be eaten and your husband was kind enough to offer to help. I didn’t know he was your husband, heee......arrrgghh.....NO!.....aaeeiiii...”
The sound of cutlery smashing, knife thuds and screaming curses exploded from the kitchen but Millard Jones could hear nothing in the silent cavern of his trembling mind.
“Are you all right darling?” asked the Sweet Dream chocolate bar suddenly poking its head around the corner. “Everything has been sorted dear, you wont have any trouble from that floosy piece of toast anymore.”
Some toast crumbs tumbled to the floor as the chocolate bar straightened the front of its crumpled wrapper.
Without a word Millard Jones let himself be led up the stairs to his bedroom.
He said nothing as the chocolate bar gently laid him on the bed and snuggled up beside him.
“You know when you said that having something like me must surely be better than sex?”
The mind of Millard Jones wobbled like jelly.
“Well I’ve been thinking, I know I’ve never let you eat me but if it’s something that you really want to do and it will make you happy, then I’ll let you.”
The Sweet Dream chocolate bar rolled over, closed its eyes, thought of sticky caramel syrup and spread itself open to be eaten.
Millard Jones looked over at his chocolate bar wife lying there spread open in an enticingly sensual way and screamed.............himself awake.
He was lying in his bed alone.
He felt himself to make sure he was real, pinching his leg again and again until he was sure he was really awake and not caught in another nightmare, another sweet dream.
Millard Jones never ate sweet things again after that.
He developed a phobia about chocolate bars especially and refused to even look at them must less contemplate touching or eating them.
He lost weight, had more energy and ended up with an actual girl friend who was attracted to his improved manly physique and overly ordered mind.
The sweet dream of this relationship didn’t last however when one night she asked Millard Jones if he would like to eat her.
Ah well, such is the way with sweet dreams, they never last.