Crazy for Chocolate

I am shocked.  Some people don't like chocolate.  I find that to be absolutely incomprehensible.

I do like chocolate, to the furthest extent of liking, way out on the far reaches of the universe of passion.  The first time I went to the Ghirardelli Chocolate Factory in San Francisco, I was on heavy, heavy overload.  Where should I start?  How much could I have?  Chocolate, unbelievable chocolate!!! I was excited, fascinated, giddy with the fragrance and taste of chocolate, cocoa, cream, everything.  I believe I stared at a deep vat of glossy darkness as a heavy paddle turned through it, round and round, just as hypnotized as a cat.  I had to be guided away just like a drunk.  My eyes had become spirals.  

Yesterday, I took a nap and woke up after a short while feeling a little irritable, unsatisfied with my sleep.  Then, it began. Tall rich chocolate cake floated before my eyes, four layers high. Devil's Food tempting me like sin itself.  What a great name, I smiled.  Back to dreamless sleep.  

Still later, I woke briefly and there floated the chocolate cake again, with its tender, moist and yielding crumb.  I swear I could taste it.  Oh, what a cruel thing, this persistent delusion with ten million calories hidden inside, an embodiment of sensual allure and instant gratification of a giant dark chocolate tooth.  What misery to be denied its satisfaction, said my dream as I was regarding the cake.  Oh, did I want that cake.  I slept again.    

Finally, I woke for good and did not think of chocolate cake.  I guess I was finally rested at last.  I felt the need to check my balance and equilibrium when I stood up.  Still good, back to normal, no problem.  What a relief.  

But, now that I am thinking back on it, the chocolate cake is just as vivid as if I had it sitting here in front of me and I can taste it, smell it, touch it.  Tall, dark and handsome.  Come to me, baby, it calls.  See what happens when you diet?