“I have a present for you!” Gayle announced on Monday. I instantly perked up. “I’m not above buying your love!” she teased.
“That’s how I became friends with this one,” I said, thumbing at Barb’s desk over my shoulder. “You don’t think that came naturally, do you?”
Gayle laughed really loud.
I wasn’t joking.
But Gayle had forgotten to bring my present on Monday, and then she forgot yesterday, too! But by then, I already knew it was a chocolate-covered Granny Smith apple. If you’ve been following my apple journey over the last year, you know I’m not a big fan of green apples, but hey — it’s the thought that counts, right?
“Um, how am I going to cut it?” I asked Gayle, because this sounded like a job for my enemy, Knife.
“Oh, don’t worry—I’ll cut it for you,” Gayle said. Suddenly, this present was sounding better and better.
Today, I came to work and was met with a giant orb of chocolate on my desk, the size of one of The Situation’s testicles after a scoreless night at Karma.
Every person who passed my desk today did a double take. Some even backtracked to inspect it closer. Amber1 stole it twice.
Finally around 6:00, I could stare at this chunk of confectionary Heaven no longer, and shuffled back to Gayle’s desk with it cradled in my palms. I batted my eyes at her, which she took as her cue to get to cuttin’.
She even cut all the seeds out for me, and made the slices into bite-sized pieces so I wouldn’t choke!
I snatched up a piece while Gayle was methodically slicing and was not prepared for the defibrillating jolt to my tongue as each taste bud blossomed in a beautiful rebirth. Suddenly, Granny Smith apples weren’t so bad.
Unfortunately, while Gayle and I were standing outside of the kitchen, one of the evil ladies from the Travel Office came slinking out of her cave and instantly sniffed out my golden apple. In an uncharacteristic fit of generosity, I offered her a slice, even though Barb is certain she’s a devil worshiper. I secretly hoped she would decline, but she TOOK ONE.
Hopefully Heaven doesn’t drop a load of frogs on my house tonight.
I shared a slice with everyone on late shift, then took what was left back to my desk, where I sat in a very un-ladylike position, jaws engaged in some nasty Tantric chewing.
“How is it?” Chris asked, after spending all day looking at it even though he doesn’t like chocolate.
“Mmmmmmpgh,” I choked around a retainer of chewy caramel, eyes closed, slowly nodding.
“That was the best response ever,” he laughed, probably wishing he liked chocolate so he could know what God’s post-sex snack tastes like.
Look at how thick that chocolate coating is!
“Wow, you were really hungry,” A-ron said, noting that 3/4 of the apple had been demolished when he passed by my desk on his way out.
“I didn’t eat it all myself! I shared it with everyone!” I cried in defense.
“You gonna go to Wendy’s later, too?” he teased and I just whimpered in defeat.
I feel like I must have chocolate all over my face. (And I know for certain I have some on my pants.)