Thomas Kilborn sat as far back as he could in his lazy boy recliner thinking about what to do next. He'd been staring at the ceiling for about twenty minutes but was no closer to making a decision then he was thirty minutes ago, which was when he put himself in the position of having to make
this decision. Was it to be the pink one or the black one? Ultimately he would have both soon enough but this exact opportunity would likely never present itself again. There might be more opportunities to bask in the glorious feeling that indulging himself in these delights lends itself but it would only be an attempt at impersonating this event and therefore never be as sweet. This was it. His only chance to make the right decision and he had to make it soon.
He dropped his head suddenly sending his body down and his head forward as the chair rapidly transformed from a pseudo-bed into an infinitely plush chair. He stood up and waved his finger at the sky swiftly, shaking his head from side to side in a fevered show of positivity and revelation. He meandered around the coffee table and slinked into the next room where the source of his indecision and resulting apoplexy was now residing. He fixed his gaze on the pink one and he couldn't tell if it was mocking him or not. It seemed to be mocking him with it's feminine brightness and judging undertones but maybe not. He did not like the pink one. Of that he was sure.
Just then, in a moment of weakness he entertained a peripheral temptation and focused his gaze on the brown one. It was just as menacing as the pink one and he began to pace faster around the table where his potential victims lay helplessly. The brown one was so dull and ugly, how could he not eat that one? He was thinking this when another thought came barging into his mental mayhem that was his mind and he was struck with another revelation. Was it inevitable that he would devour one or more of these mortal creatures or could he spare them, just for now, and take them later? It would be a good exercise in self control.
He squirmed out of the room as swiftly and clumsily as he had entered it a few minutes earlier and into the living room. Back in his chair he sat with his head cradled by his soft hands and he did his best to think about something else. Cars, no. Baseball, no. But when knives came up he began to follow a train of thought through a winding trail of brands, steels, materials and purposes, which ultimately led to knowledge that knives are used to cut things. He remembered how much he wanted to cut one of them or maybe, if he had no self control this time, he would cut into both of them and pay no mind to the satisfaction of taking them slowly. He wanted to just take them both now and be done with it.
Slowly he arose like a devious demon and slinked over to the counter as quietly as he could. When he felt how well his socks masked his steps he smiled and in no time he was grasping a long silver blade. As he brought it up it shimmered for just a moment before Thomas began his final trek toward the culmination of his contemplation. The end to the torment caused by his own indecision. His heart began to beat uncontrollably in his chest and his eyes widened as the two of them came into view. He felt the power of the tightly gripped knife in his hand and the anticipation of that wonderful feeling he would feel during the act was intoxicating, filling him with warmth.
Without hesitation the strong blade slammed down on the pink one severing it in two, nearly equal, parts revealing it's insides and a red paste began to ooze onto the table. Then, with another swift, vertical blow the brown one was split in twain but this time a dark brown liquid began to poor madly out of the wound mixing with the red paste, conducting a kind of sick alchemy of sweet, sticky goodness. Thomas began to cackle and dance around the table chanting, "hey yuh, hey yuh, hey yuh," like a barbarian at a victory feast as bits of red and strings of brown spattered onto the ground and cabinets.
He stopped his triumphant dance when he felt the event had been properly celebrated, which turned out to be immediately after he noticed the mess he was creating and remembered how much he hated cleaning up, and then looked down on the soft, gooey, clumps on the table and realized that he hadn't solved his problem at all. Now there were two pink ones, and two brown ones, which was worse than before. Then, Thomas remembered that there was a quarter in the drawer at his six o'clock and in one quick jump he twisted around now facing the opposite direction. The drawer was full of miscellaneous items, odds and ends and just a second after he pricked his hand by something sharp he felt the quarter lying on the bottom.
In another death defying spinning jump move he was facing his victims once more and his mouth began to water. The coin flipped precipitously and in slow motion toward the sky, then back down and spun on the edge of the counter for just a moment before falling to the floor. Thomas lurched downward nearly impaling himself on the blunt side of the tabletop and looked at the coin. Heads it was and with joyous resolve he stood up, also in slow motion, and grabbed the top half of the chocolate filled eclair and with generous gusto jammed it into his gaping mouth. For minutes to come, underneath the sugary treat, could be heard the sound of many muffled and glorious giggles.
