Nothing says, I love you, like setting a court date on Valentine’s Day

That’s right.  My new court date is Feb 14.

I remember the good old days when I would have Valentine’s as a kid.  You know where you gave everyone in your class a little cheesy card, and no matter how much you insisted to your parents you didn’t like sweets they would always get you a heart shaped box filled with chocolates that could be filled with anything…

…and I do mean anything.  It was like a Russian roulette chocolate game.  What will be in this one?  Something unidentifiable, something disguisting, or…no safe Carmel.  ”Would I like another?”  I’m sure I wouldn’t.  I’m sure I’d love to run around and be chased by a box of chocolates than to risk a fake coconut one that somehow always tastes how I imagine Aqua Velva tastes.

“Well, mom and dad, I suppose one more wouldn’t hurt since you want to all the trouble to buy me this nice gift.”  They look on smiling.

With carmel down, and no repeat looking in sight, I always risk a white one.  I have no idea why.  There’s some sort of unidentifiable red goo in it usually.  And it tastes, well, red.  Unidentifiable red taste.  Could be anything really.  Just red.  I try to smile and choke back the one tear that wants to fall in a reaction to the red.

I thank them politely, and offer up candy for them.  Of course they decline.  This one is all for me.

I glance at the box, after admitting “I’m sure I’d like one more”.

Here it is the last blind hope, that the odd shaped one will contain nuts, and it’s not just a mutant.  I really don’t want them to think I’m eating the mutant because I feel sorry for it.  Actually, at this age I hated nuts in chocolate, but at least it’s on familiar ground.  It does have an unidentifiable nut in it.  I have no idea what I have just eaten, but I hope it doesn’t stretch into a tree later.

And no, I never got the kind the kind that shows you the map of what you’re eating.  That either came later in life, or my parents were quick to pick out the one box on earth that didn’t come with a chocolate legend.

Three and your safe.  It’s time to excuse myself to the bathroom where I can hide for a while until the candy is forgotten.  Yes, it’s a childish trick, but I was a child.

Now that I think about it, court doesn’t sound so bad.

You’re favorite TBI writer.