I have no idea what they put in it but it’s so moreish I could eat two slices, no three, but of course if I did that I’d be sick and heck they wouldn’t let me in here again. Or at the least they’d make me clean it up. I have enough of that at home. Ma says if I don’t do the dishes before I go out she’ll pile them in my room. Honestly, who’d have a mother? I wish I didn’t. Now what have I said? I’ll be struck down, have to say nine Hail Marys. Why nine? Don’t ask me, it’s all about multiples of three, my lucky number, come to think of it not so lucky. Three slices of chocolate cake, three Mars bars and three Snickers. Or do they call them Marathon now? Or the other way round? Flip, I don’t know.
Then I sneeze and I sneeze and I sneeze, yes three times and it must be some kind of allergy, but that woman, you know the one who’s in every café I go to because she definitely follows me, she’s looking at me and tut-tutting and next time, I swear to the Holy Virgin, I’m going to pick up my plate with the chocolate cake and the cream, and she’s going to get it. Only joking, I wouldn’t dare, though it is my fantasy and now I’ve told you I expect I’ll rot in hell. Have to say some more Hail Marys – Holy Mary, Mother of God, blah, blah. She’s always dressed in blue, the BVM, have you noticed? I mean to say, is that a very likely colour? Wouldn’t it get fearfully dirty, especially if you were eating chocolate cake? Not that she would, po-faced Holy Mother of God. That’s it. I’m done for now. Which actually means I can eat as much chocolate cake as I want. Oh, I’m hurting, how much longer is this purgatory going on? I wish I could stop but I can’t. There’s a teeny bit of cream left, enough for someone’s face, the next one who tries it on with me, this guilt trip thing, call yourself a nice Catholic girl? Well I don’t actually, there is nothing nice about me.
This is the very last piece of chocolate cake. That’s it, I’m done. Done, done, completely done. I’m tired actually. Terribly tired. Could be the chocolate. It makes some people hyper-active but me I just get tired as a dog. That’s a thing. Chocolate kills dogs. Watch out dogs! Fortunately for them they’re not allowed in here but I can hear them gathering. Barking for chocolate. Because they want to die. Die, die, die and may their souls rest in the bosom of the Holy Mother, Amen.
Really great voice, Cath.ReplyDelete