Appositio (ap-po-sit’-i-o): Addition of an adjacent, coordinate, explanatory or descriptive element.
Life was good—good as a slice of pumpkin pie. I was living the sensual life—no reins, no steering wheel, no rudder. If anything directed my trip through life it was cheesecake, chocolate candy and marshmallow fluff. I frequented soda fountains and candy stores. Sometimes I’d pop a Jolly Rancher out of nostalgia. Once in awhile I remembered my elementary school days when I started my turn toward sensuality. It was the chocolate pudding served with lunch that hooked me in sugary treats.
I inherited a fortune when I was 19. Self indulgence is not much of a feat. I have bins of candy in the basement of my mansion. The basement smells so delicious it brings tears to my eyes. Taking a page from Scrooge McDuck’s book, I swim in my candy daily—my favorite flavor to swim in is cherry—the fragrance is intoxicating.
Every morning I have a bowl of malted milk balls in heavy cream followed by two raspberry jelly donuts and a shot of Lumber Jack Joe maple syrup from my 200 acre sugar bush in northern New York. I’d set my Stairlift on full speed to get down to breakfast. It went so fast, I got butterflies, but maybe they were just in anticipation of starting another sweetened day. After breakfast my butler would help me put on my swimming trunks and help me get seated in the Jacuzzi. I would have a glass of Kool-Aid plus—my own invention with quadruple sugar and a handful of sour balls and one cup of grenadine syrup. This was the time of day when I composed poetry about my obsession and good fortune to be surrounded by sweets:
“On my tongue,
Not my lung
The red hot dollar lay
And chewed and swallowed
it would pay
My desire’s flicking flame.”
I wrote this just last week as I was wiggling my toes in the Jacuzzi. It is titled “Red Hot Dollar.” It queries he price of desire. It will be worked into the opera I am composing titled “Caked in Trouble.”
Next, my butler hauls me out of the Jacuzzi with our water-ski tow rope and ferries me off to lunch in our battery-powered “Little Roller.” I eat outside whenever I can, getting my Vitamin D and a healthy tan. A typical lunch consists of a craft made Peruvian dark chocolate bar on rye, sprinkled with chocolate flavored Jimmie’s, soaked with chocolate syrup and topped with Fluff and a dollop of peanut butter. The beverage is mango keifer blended with molasses and Red Bull. After lunch, I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven. I ride Little Roller back up to the mansion and my butler lifts me out with a tow truck crane bolted to the concrete driveway and sets me down on my feet.
Walking is difficult, but I make it to the media room. I watch “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” until it is time for dinner. With great effort I make it to the dining room. I sit on my throne at the head of the table and survey the meal set before me.
First, I notice the chocolate-covered yams. Hmmm. Then I see a small gumdrop mountain on my salad plate—bravo! Kudos to the chef. Next—a chocolate five foot replica of the White House filled with blackberry jam. I almost fainted—it combined so many edifying themes. There were other lesser dishes. One that stood out was sugar-covered wild boar jerky. We had a light desert—hills of whipped cream garnished with red M&M’s.
Time for bed with a bowl of “Carnal-Nut” ice cream and 3 packs of Little Debbie “Swiss Rolls.” They remind me of Heidi without the goats. Well, it’s been another stellar day consuming my nummie edibles! Good night!
POSTSCRIPT
Known worldwide as “The Sweetest Man,” Edward Ronka lived his life steeped in sweets. He died last week from every known malady associated with over indulgence in sweets. At 425 pounds, he was a formidable presence. Watching him consume sweets with two hands was awe inspiring, especially handfuls of candy kisses. We will miss him as a symbol of freedom from the constraints of good judgment and moderation.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)
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