Nuclear Chocolate

Story Sent in by Ann:

One winter a few years ago, Jeffrey, who I'd been dating, invited me to his house for a movie night and hot chocolate. He claimed to have "the best hot chocolate recipe" that I'd ever tried, so as you can imagine I was pumped.

He welcomed me into his apartment and said that he'd start on the hot chocolate. He stopped me from following him into the kitchen ("It's a secret recipe!") and so I waited for him in the living room.

He didn't return for a while, and the smell of chocolate and burning pervaded the little apartment. I called out to Jeff, but he replied that everything was under control - nothing to worry about.

After hearing him swear a half-dozen times, he entered the living room holding a steaming mug. He held it with a potholder and held it in my direction, as if I would simply take it without saying...

"Maybe you should just put it down on the coffee table. It looks hot."

He said, "Just take it."

"Put it down," I insisted, and he did. I was expecting it to look like hot chocolate, but instead it looked like speckled, dark-grey soup. It smelled a bit like chocolate, but mostly its aroma was that of burning ashes.

"Go ahead and try it," he said.

I said, "Where's yours? We should try it together."

He went for the kitchen. I bolted for the nearby bathroom, spilled as much of the goop down the drain as I could, ran the tap, and jumped back for the couch. Turns out that I didn't have to hurry. Jeff was gone for another minute or so, but he came back with a mug of the stuff (and he wore a potholder to carry it) and sat down with it, setting it down on the coffee table.

We cuddled a bit as we watched a movie, but I noticed that he never once touched his mug. When the movie was over and he collected the mugs from the table, he asked me, "How did you like it?"

I said, "It was good, thanks."

"Really?" he asked, "When I tried some in the kitchen, it tasted like something died in it."

And he had still offered it to me to try? Forget this guy.


  1. I'll bet the OP's date is one of those wanks that gives people honesty tests even though the honest opinion in such situations is socially unacceptable.

  2. Loved this story! OP was brilliant for dumping the "secret recipe" hot chocolate (Hint: the secret ingredient is dead cat fetuses) and the date was great for totally pretending that nothing was wrong with his disgusting concoction.

  3. The loopy Spanish teacher I mentioned in the last story tried to cook me plantain bananas once. Cuz, you know, they're Spanish-like and stuff. Anyway, it was equally disastrous, and we ended up getting a pizza or something. Who the hell wants to eat bananas for dinner, anyway? This is 'Murica, dammit!

  4. He was most likely trying detect what kind of disgusting things he could put in your mouth. When you liked it, he knew you were a keeper.

  5. Hot steaming mugs of laxative are a shortcut to get your relationship to the #4 stage. Seems like you dodged a most-perfect-boyfriend-ever bullet there, OP.

  6. After drinking that stuff, you'd be in the bathroom screaming "NUMBER 3!! NUMBER 3!!"

  7. Steve, I have eaten a banana for dinner once when i was super poor back in my college days. Still poor today but have more money than my college days.

  8. I think the shocking part of this whole story is right here in the comments section - Blue Blue went to college! I just did a number three in my lady business suit after reading that revelation.

  9. Does clown college count as college? I guess so. It says it right in the name.

  10. For Blue Blue, 'college' is that special school where they taught her to dress herself. Scoff all you want, but she got the drooling under control and she can now afford TWO bananas for dinner. So there.

  11. Sorry G, but did you forget you went to my college too? your pic is in the yearbook. And G, i rather have a drooling problem, than you wetting your pants all the time.

  12. Devil you know, I am so glad to hear your digestive system is regular. Architect, my name has nothing to do with the college I have attended. And I did not attend clown college that where G went don't get me confused with G, Architect.

  13. I turn my back for one minute and all you clowns are fighting. As the CEO of several international circus' I'm unsure whether to send you cease & desist letters or employment contracts.
    As you can see I like to keep my pimp hand strong. I especially like using it on little bitches like Jeffery here messing up something as simple as pre sex hot chocolate. Thanks to clueless men like this we now have an epidemic of Empty Vagina Syndrome. Thanks Jeffery.
    But lets end on a positive note. Blue Blue, in her round about way introduced the topic, but I'm going to revolutionize "banana eating". So, lady lawyers, architects, cleaners & clowns, stand back and hold hands as I present to you the Group Blumpkin. Enjoy.

  14. Excuse me, Steve. My grandmother is Puerto Rican and she works WONDERS with plantains. WONDERS I tell you! I'm just sayin'

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  16. tryn2fly, you need to reread the comments cause i didn't introduced the topic. I simply commented on one.

  17. I read the whole thing kind of figuring he jizzed in it.

    That probably says something about this site.

  18. Sorry Blue, just ribbing you a little. But I think you do have all of us a little more than curious. We all want to know about you! Where are you from? Are you a man or a woman? What college did you go to? How many bananas does it take to make a meal? Inquiring minds want to know!

  19. architect, you silly head, Sorry I don't want to let people know my gender. And I don't want to say what college I went to. But I can tell you that back in my college days one banana could make a meal cause I barely had any money. And you can make a whole bunch of bananas into a meal.

  20. Ich denke, die schockierende Teil dieser ganzen Geschichte ist hier in den Kommentaren - Blau Blau ging aufs College! Ich habe gerade eine Nummer drei in meine Dame Anzug nach der Lektüre, dass die Offenbarung.


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