She was on the floor. I was there, but he

She was on the floor. I was there, but he drove her there. He was sober, he was special, but with no home he had no anchor. He needs to save her. He can't save her. We can't.

We mustn't! "Why not?" he wanted to know. "Because!" she whispered, giggling. I was hiding under the bed, where they couldn't see me, but I could hear them. Another giggle. Then,

a growl from... The fearsome chocolate bunnies!" she finished. But the two years a bang on the door, "Easter is here! MHAHAHAHA!"

A sea of chocolate easter eggs flooded through the door.

"All hands! All hands!" The floor boss slapped the red button. A deluge of ganache overflowed the holding tanks. It would be death by chocolate unless

the Lonely, Overweight Secretaries Brigade could arrive in time to clean up the mess. The chocolate vats gurgled and belched forth their sweet, deadly contents as the sirens grew

in size. They reclined indolently on the sofa landscapes of the lounge luring the credulous cubicle worker with their chocolate "triffles" and promises of extra hour stenography.

Edith's Chocolate Lounge was a huge success. It was a chocolate-y vversion of the classic Cocktail lounge atmosphere. Edith was a very dapper lady herself, wearing brown.

Her gown seemed dappled under the muted cerulean lighting at the venue. The walls were draped with the spoils of countless wars on countless worlds of countless lives. We lived th

e guilt of creating these wars, but it wasn't easy. Every day we saw the destruction we had caused. Every night we re-lived the screams. Was this Hell, and were we paying our dues?