Day 25 - sstrawberryco's Chocolate Tastes Better When Purchased Illegally

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Chocolate Tastes Better When Purchased Illegally

by sstrawberryco 


"Alright," I say, "I have the money. Now hand over the goods."

A tall figure in a black trench coat steps out from a dark side alley branching into the alley we're already in. Did they have to be this extra?

"Let's see the cash," says the dealer. They hold out their hand. I fan out the money, displaying each 100-dollar bill. I know not to trust the dealers. This one's probably wearing a speedo under their heavy coat.

The dealer reached into their black duffel bag and pulls out a couple shiny silver boxes. "Two boxes of Hershey's 'milk chocolate'."

Chocolate candy is a great cover for the deal- it's got enough caffeine in it to be illegal, but it's not as bad as what we're really dealing with.

The dealer hands me the box and I carefully open it. There's the real stuff.

The sides of the box are crammed with dark chocolate bars. I pick one up- "with coffee shots" has been scribbled onto the brown and very illegal packaging. But in the middle of the box is what I'm really looking for- Ecrivain's Specials. There's a glass mason jar of the chocolate whopper-looking pills. Each one can cure any disease or ailment. They're ridiculously expensive, and there are exactly three of them in my box.

"I though I ordered five Specials."

"Shortage in supply of those deluxe caramel milk chocolate Hershey Bars," replies the dealer nonchalantly. As much as I hate them for charging me extra for less, I will admit that it is an excellent cover-up. Caramel is perfectly legal.

"Yeah, well if I don't have them I'm not paying for them."

"Excuse me, be happy that you even got this box in the first place. With all the surveillance around here-"

Suddenly a bright green and yellow light flashes down the alley. We both jump as a voice yells out from across the road.

"In the name of the Almighty Toad King, you are under arrest for the illegal dealing of caffeine and chocolate."

"Oh great snakes," moans the dealer, "we are both so screwed."

I desperately wrench open my mason jar and pull out the Specials. I'm halfway to shoving them in my mouth and eating the evidence when the dealer stops me.

"What the snake are you doing?" they whisper, "don't you know why those things are illegal?! More than one dose in six hours and you'll die of shock!"

"I wasn't going to eat them-"

"Are those- Ecrivain's Specials?!" cries the policewoman. She makes the sign of the Toad across her chest. "My Toad. I can't believe it." She stands slack-jawed for a moment. "Restrain them!"

Three thick, burly Toadies have me and the dealer in the back of a ToadCar faster than you can say "coffee".

The dealer glares, crushed into the green leather seat next to me. They hold up their handcuffs. "This is all your fault."

"You were arguing too," I snap back, "if you hadn't copped me out of two specials we woulda both been out of that alley way before now."

"So now you're admitting that we were dealing with Specials? We could've said we found those in the gutter-"

"We can hear you!" sings the policewoman from the front seat. "And please, the way of the Toad is a path of peace. I request serenity and calm while you're in the back of my vehicle."

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