The Blackness

Well. It’s Black Friday, and I’m posting this in the afternoon, so I assume there are few of you left alive to read this, most of you being trampled under the hooves of your fellow shoppers in the spirit of the holiday season…

But I bring you today a message not of the pushing and the shoving and the “Hey hey hey!”, but of peace and love!

In fact, I believe we should all stop what we’re doing, and embrace one another with hugs and kisses…

Extravagant kisses.

The Enrobening

“So, what does an Emperor wear?” you ask.

As you may already know, I, the Imperial Person, am mechanically enrobed each morning in Liquid Chocolate of the highest quality.

“What is Enrobing?” you continue…

Well, Mr-or-Mrs Asking-a-lot-of-questions, I shall endeavor to explain:

Like many of Our Realm’s myriad chocolate delights, I am placed onto a dwarven-built mechanical device known as a “conveyor belt,” which carries me at a steady speed through a “waterfall” of pure liquid chocolate, which hardens upon standing.

This outer casing gives me an armor-like protective shell, in addition to a bold, sleek look, glowing with Imperial Grandeur and 1970s realness!

Of course I may choose to enrobe myself in different styles of chocolate for various Royal Occasions—White Chocolate for a baptism or public address, Dark for matters of state, Bittersweet for funerals, and so on…*

Our royal Head and Hands, of course, are covered by protective wax-paper during the process, which is afterword given to a young peasant of the realm who is either injured, or suffering from some type of ailment.**

One can not help but be moved by the sheer delight on the faces of the impoverished children as they peel off the hardened, hollow, head-sized coating of Imperial Chocolate from the wax-paper, and greedily scarf it down (or slowly savor it, as their own individual personalities would dictate), their wounds instantly healed by ingestion of the divine shell, and their sad, trademarked illnesses abated.

And that’s enrobing!


*(sometimes I have them toss in crispy puffed-rice pieces, “jus’ cuz”!)

**(“skittles,” perhaps, or “mounds”.)

The Jack of Grills

The other day, a peasant begged audience with me to plead for a boon. As he knelt trembling before the throne, I noticed his mouth was in a sorry state.

Many of his teeth were broken, and a great many more were missing altogether. He explained, via his decimated grill, that he has a deep love for chocolate-dipped frozen bananas, and has been eating them by the wheelbarrowful for most of his life, despite the horrendous damage the rock-hard treats were doing to his teeth.

I recommended this recipe for Chocolate Banana Bread from Elise at as an ameliorant.

“Resist the urge to add walnuts, for safety’s sake,” I cautioned.

He thanked me and bowed deeply, praising my magnanimity with what was left of his jacked-up face-hole. He swore to use the recipe to bake me a loaf large enough to use as a mattress.

“A kingly gift,” I said, “but again…the walnuts.”