Nutella Girls

The air was crisp. Sitting there, outside the education building at the university. I looked up a lot. At the trees. The sky. The top rack of the drinks where they keep orange juice for a buck .75.

I thought about the day and was sort of glad about it. Explained that, no, I don't want Nutella, even though both of you girls are very pretty. The Nutella girls were much prettier than the 5 hour energy drink girls.
The five hour energy drink company probably doesn't have the same sort of marketing budget as Nutella.

I told the 5 hour energy drink girls, "No, I don't want your poison." To which one of the girls replied, "Like I havn't heard that before."

The Nutella girls described the similarity between peanut butter and Nutella. I feel like the comparison is sort of thin, but maybe it works pretty well. "Do you eat peanut butter," they asked in a way that didn't require an answer. "Nutella is kind of like peanut butter," the girl with the dimpled chin and ringletted blonde hair rehearsed. I wondered if Nutella was also like the sea at the last light of day, somewhere much further south than Indiana, with the dimpled chin girl kneading lotion onto my back and running to the cabana for another round of drinks.

If I had told them I moved into an apartment and there were four jars of peanut butter stocked in the shelves. No one's peanut butter. Like having a private supermarket, rows of Nutella spilling into dreams, an ocean of Nutella to drown into on the bow of some sinking Titanic. The two girls smiled, rows and rows of pearl all lined up. The first rule of a dealer is never to cut into the supply. "So, would you like a sample. You can have a lot of samples." Both of the girls with handfuls, soap dispensers over-brimming with Nutella.

I took a drink of Orange Juice and fantasized deeper. Halloween bagfuls of rich dark chocolate to cover my flesh. To fill the baptistry, some great awakening of chocolate slathered bodies. Together the girls probably weighed about 215. Goodbye forever I thought. "Yeah, no Nutella for me, but thanks for talking about it." "Yeah thanks for talking," and they pursued their $12 dollar an hour jobs pimping Nutella around college campuses. Probably not much different ethically than posing for Playboy.

I noticed the clouds and how one looked like a chocolate Easter bunny with a bite taken out of its paw.