Like Whiskey for Chocolate
by, 18th July 2010 at 10:10 AM (2061 Views)
Craving, by Perfume by Nature.
There simply aren't enough warning labels on this stuff.
The ne'er-do-well private fragrance investigator is back, and this time he's in real trouble. In addition to his many other weaknesses, it seems he's a bit of a chocoholic, and maybe even kinky for gourmands. Too bad he's about to run into Craving - the Mystery of Musk entry from Perfume by Nature. You might be surprised how far he'll go to satisfy his cravings for the stuff...
The dog licked the floor. I kid you not. My cologne-hating dog licked the floor.
OK. Maybe I'd better back up a bit..
Sometimes, when I'm hanging out at the seedy lounge around the corner from the office, people ask me about the job. And, for some reason God only knows, they always ask me to tell 'em about my strangest case ever. Hey - I can answer that one dead drunk. Whenever they ask me, I'll say to the bartender…
"Hey! Barkeep! Gimme a Chocolate Dude!"
Then he'll laugh, and make me one. Just this ambery lookin' liquid in a shot glass. I'll sniff that drink, and it all comes back. And I'll say….
Yeah. My strangest case? Ever? That would be… the chocolate dude.
Ya see, this gal came in to my office. Oh, yeah, she was a looker. Kinda weird, though. She was white. I mean, like white white. Creamy white. Weird white. She had this golden blonde hair, and her skin was perfect. I mean, perfect like skin shouldn't be lookin'. Ya know? Just strange. Kinda hot, though. I had these urges that I just ain't gonna say. But the dog? It starts lickin' her leg.
"Hey! Cut it out! Sorry, ma'am. I guess it's better than what he usually does."
Well, the dog ain't stoppin'. It's just looking out of one eye and smilin' with its tongue hanging out, licking away. And this broad - she just ignores the damn dog like this happens all the time. And then she starts blubberin' and throws herself across my desk like she's about to die, with the damn dog still lickin' her leg hanging in the air, and she starts wailing, over and over,
"PLEASE! YOU HAVE TO HELP ME! PLEASE HELP ME FIND CHOCOLATE BOY!"
Now, it takes me a second, but when this waxy-lookin' chick with these big sad eyes is right up in my face, it all clicks.
"Wait a minute! You look like that guy in the Axe commercials. That dude who's made out of…."
And she just wails.
So I lean over and get this dame a kleenex - my last one, too, dammit - and she tells me her story. Her name is Blanche somethin'-or-other, but apparently, everybody calls her Vanilla Girl. And this dude - Chocolate Boy? He's that guy in those commercials for Axe Dark Temptation body spray. Now I would have thought it was the most bullshit story anybody had ever come up with for tracking down an old boyfriend, but - damn it - I licked this broad on her cheek, and sure as hell, she tastes just like vanilla. In fact, I was having a hard time stopping, until she pushes me off and puts a finger under my nose like she's stopping a sneeze. Mmmmm - that smelled good.
So she tells me how this Chocolate Boy was her fiancé, and they was supposed to get married the next week. It seemed everything had been going along just swell until two days before, and then - BAM! He up and disappears.
Now, I kinda felt sorry for this broad, so I tell her I'll take the case, even though I know deep down that when a joker bolts like that, he ain't likely to show up in front of the preacher man, if you know what I'm sayin'. So I'm thinkin' about how to break it to her. That's when she pulls out this vial and hands it to me.
"So what's this?"
"You can use it to find Chocolate Boy! It's his bathwater!"
Now I'm kinda lookin' askance at this little spray vial of ambery liquid, but I figure I'll check it out, so I squirt some on a test paper. Most of it ended up on the paper, with the rest on my shoe and the floor. But before I could even get the paper to my nose, I could smell this stuff.
"Isn't he beautiful?"
"It's like somebody shot a fifth of Jack Daniels, a flaming hickory briquette, a rich broad's ashtray, and one DAMN big slice of Death by Chocolate cake with incense candles through a blender on cloud nine!"
Then she starts telling me what they were doing in the bathtub at the time. Three words. TOO. MUCH. INFORMATION. However, it sure explained the musky notes.
And right then, this thought occurs to me. I raise my arm up in the air and sniff my right armpit.
"Damn. It's like a Photoshop "noirification" of Axe Dark Temptation. It's darker than dark. Axe has these fresh, floral, and powdery notes set in chocoholic darkness. That Axe is one of the greatest scents in years. But THIS. This has burnt wood, vetiver, and musky notes set in that same darkness. And it WORKS. Call me blown away, sister, but this juice is the dark bomb!"
And that's when I see the dog - who normally hates any kind of perfume - or damn near anything that smells good, for that matter - lickin' the floor. And my shoe. Well, I suppose I did need a shine. But then it hits me. The dog. That's how we're gonna catch our boy.
Vanilla Girl widened her eyes and covered her mouth.
"Isn't chocolate bad for dogs?"
I shrugged and kept on sniffing the paper.
"Can't be any worse than whiskey."
My dog has many faults, but being good isn't one of them. So while I'm faking out everybody as a blind guy, my worthless pooch is faking out everybody as that paragon of canine responsibility, the seeing-eye dog. It's amazing how many faults people are willing to overlook when the white cane comes out.
We searched high and low for Chocolate Boy. Uptown. Downtown. Lefttown and Righttown. We looked in every posh parlor and every dirty dive. We followed his beautiful scent wherever we found it. We stayed hot on the trail of his dark, glistening chocolate skin. His coarse, fragrant vetiver hair. His deep, warm, boozy breath. The almost religious swirl of incense and ash that he left in his wake. Lover boy could run and hide, but we - the dark forces of love - were gonna track down his luscious cocoa buttocks and bring 'em back to the girl who loved him. We were like the musky accord of his drydown destiny, and he couldn't shake us if he tried.
When we found him, he was sitting outside a Dairy Queen, licking a triple soft-cone. His eyes were every bit as sad as Vanilla Girl's. He looked like my damn dog, the day his biggest bone rolled into the storm drain.
"So - are you ready to come back?"
"She sent you, didn't she?"
"Of course she did. What did you expect?"
"It'll never work. We're complete opposites."
"Oh yeah? Tell that to an entire world that loves you two together."
"No, she's just like all the others. All those women. The licking. The sniffing. The grabbing. It's disgusting. She doesn't love me for me. She just loves me for chocolate."
"Look, buddy. First of all, let me give you some news. Chicks like guys for all kinds of stupid reasons. Same with guys. You're not so different. So don't go thinkin' the universe is gonna make some big exception for you just because you smell good. And besides. She's different from every other broad."
"Yeah. She's the only one - the ONLY one - who understands what you're going through."
"Yeah, cowboy. Think about it. Name one other gal that everybody in the world wants to lick her elbow. And I mean everybody - including that damn dog who's licking your backside right now."
"Huh. I never thought of it that way. I guess we are kind of unique."
"And not just that. She loves more than just your chocolate. Your vetiver hair - man, that stuff is just about perfect. That musk - dude - it comes through so dark, it's just suave city. Your IMMENSE woody incense drydown. I mean, seriously. How many guys are good to go for 24 hours? And how about your lost weekend topnotes? The ones that would melt a breathalyzer? I think you can count that little lady as a fan."
"She loves me for my topnotes? Really? You think so?"
"You're a package, bro!"
The guy starts huggin' me and crying like a baby. I just stand there forever while he cries a river. After a while, he pulls himself together. He doesn't say nothin' - he just pats me on the shoulder, hands me his ice cream cone, and runs off. Case closed.
Sometimes I wonder how it happened after that. I try to imagine Chocolate Boy, all dressed up in primo packaging, ready to take that long walk with the lady of his dreams. Yup. Another great love, saved by private investigation.
So anyway, after that, it's just me and the dog. I'm standin' there holding this damn vanilla ice cream cone, and the dog is eyeing this puddle of luscious, boozy, chocolate tears from lover boy. Oh, yeah. I can smell that creamy chocolate death cake just wafting up off of the asphalt. Sweet caramel sauce, syrupy liqueur, and liquid sex just drizzled all over it. And it's being served in a cloud of exotic perfume. Oh, yeah.
The dog looks at the puddle, then the cone, and then he gives me this funny look with his tongue hanging out.
I smiled at the doggie, and held out that ice cream cone, real special, like it was Vanilla Girl herself. And we had a taker.
What can I say. Chocolate ain't good for dogs.
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