Cherry Slices

All of my vices are of the liquid variety… coffee, beer, bourbon. I don't gamble, smoke, or chew. I've never been one to womanize. Just those three delicious, wonderful liquids.

My weakness, though, is cherry slices.

That god awful red food coloring, the sickeningly sweet aftertaste. There is something truly terrible about them.

And yet.

My best tactic is to just avoid them. Oh, I know just exactly where they keep them in all of the various grocery stores I haunt. I have to steer clear of those corners, but I can feel their presence when I walk by… calling to me.

This one store puts them so… very… close to the actual fruit, that they could almost just reach out and touch one another…

Every now and then, I succumb to their siren song. And when I do…

Oooooh, gosh.

They're half gone by the time I get home. Oh, I try to savor them, make them last, but… I keep taking, and taking, and taking… telling each and every delectable morsel that it will be my last…

It's always a lie.

They make me weak. My resolve shrinks to nothingness in the face of their sweet gelled goodness.

I am, quite simply, unable to resist them.

When I get home, I hide them in the top of the pantry, as if I'll somehow forget they're there. But I always find myself going back for seconds… thirds… fourths…

mmmmmmmmmm

Gosh.

I think I might have to fit one last one in before I turn in for the night.

Oh, and apropos of nothing… you look absolutely ravishing in red, my love.

You should wear it more often.