After going on a binge of chocolate for the past 24 hours, no sleep, plenty of racing thoughts and feelings of euphoria, I had a few hallucinations of our Lady Mary singing the lyrics of Amish Paradise:
There's no time for sin and vice
Living in an Amish paradise
We don't fight, we all play nice
Living in an Amish paradise
I wondered why it made me feel like this. So I got on the first bus to Cambridge University to interview professor John Kaufman, on what makes chocolate so damn drug-like.
He has this to say:
'Well young man I continue to explore in my spare time the roles of chocolate molecules in resistance to pathogens and response to vaccines, now listen closely young man, get those damn radios out of your ears- my long-term plans include whole genome studies in chocolate, development of chocolates as a system with a smooth transition between field and laboratory for study of natural pathogens in a natural host, and work on other candies. Out of all this I can go on a side trek though their molecular history and tell you they are directly related to heroin, via the acetyl triggers which are hidden in cocoa beans yet are there if you look close enough. The name heroin comes from 'heroisch', the German word for hero. Heroin was originally sold as a painkiller in the 19th century, by the chemical company Bayer, until doctors realised its highly addictive quality. Now what is chocolate ? Highly addictive. The links are so strong I followed this up; a friend lead me to study behaviour patterns in native Indians that consumed a lot of chocolate in their diet. What did I find? This Native Indian’s had such trippy recreations, their immunity allows chocolate to be that bit more poignant.'
I asked the Professor what his favourite chocolate bar was, he blushed :
'Well I’m not sure if I should say this, it is rather embarrassing, but sometime down the lab when I need a break away from my work, I make a mix where the molecular structure of the chocolate is more heroin then chocolate and well it makes for quite a splendid creation.'
After telling him he was off the record, I went home confused, am I junky if I eat lots of chocolate? Is there a chocolate rehab? Would the Owl pay for it? I rang a doctor and he sent me out a leaflet, I had to fill out a form, with an astonishing amount of questions, the first question was:
Do you ever feel that you love chocolate more than either yourself or your intimate partner or both?
I recall my ex girlfriend, that exact day, the exact emotion, my desponded replay to her, ‘you never talk to me anymore’ my reply written in tough vowel snappings ‘ Bitch eating all my fucking chocolate and not even cleaning your lips of the whore juice, fucking bitch!’ I hit her with the side of my arm, it was a tap, but it was enough to crash her to the ground, I was ashamed, I loathed myself and there was an offer on Penguin bars, 98 penguin bars for 3 euro, I had them all, I bade in them. Had a bath, poured them until the water was mud brown, I cried into the chocolate, felt it siphoning into my nose, face pores, beyond my eyes, into a kind of darkness, a chocolate invasion of all my sense, I felt myself falling, falling beneath a deep sea of chocolate, I was writhing in the sensual agony, CHOCOLATE CHOCOLATEEEEEE was the code written in all the signals out and inputting my brain.
Now I knew how Gater felt, when he proclaimed his dark, beguiling anti-epiphany:
There is a darkness inside of me it wants to get out, it wants to walk around, it wants some walking around money it wants to buy some shoes it it wants to walk up to the people and say Gater don’t play no Shit!
I am now left contemplating my life, or what little left of it there is. Should I go on or not?
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