I was twenty years old the first time I went to Switzerland. I was with one of those crapass European tour groups (before I knew the benefits of travelling unaided). They took us into the city centre and there it was...In front me, was the most majestic chocolate shop I had ever seen in my life. I think I may have jizzed in my pants. After hovering and salivating in front of the shop window for several minutes, I composed myself and entered. It was a fatties dream. Hundreds of truffles and bars and candies and chocolate and more chocolate! It was heaven! I remember just pointing at truffles mindlessly until I had a full bag and my total was some exorbitant amount in Swiss Francs. I skipped whatever afternoon crapass tour they had arranged-skipped lunch and dinner too. I just went back to my hotel room and made sweet love to my truffles. It was truly bliss. I remember falling asleep and having the strangest dream:
After a life of unsatisfying, sordid and painful love affairs with men- I decided that chocolate was my only true and tried love. I moved to Swizterland to take over a chocolate factory from a retiring chocolatier. The factory came with his two nephews Hans and Ulrich. They were my workers and sexual slaves. I demanded that they dress in tight-fitting Lederhosen (without shirts). I became relentless in my pursuit of creating the perfect chocolate and insisted on trying every batch before it left the factory. All of my meals had to contain chocolate: chocolate covered sauerkraut, schitznel and sausage. This gluttonous behaviour, led to me ballooning up to 500 lbs. Too rotund and lethargic to bathe myself, Hans and Ulrich sponged me down in a solution made of chocolate and sodium lauryl sulfate. They soon grew tired of my ill-treatment, hired a crane and hoisted me into a vat of boiling chocolate. The end.
I didn't eat chocolate for several weeks afterwards.
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