Dear Socially Conscious Sir,
I don’t know where we were, but we were travelling through the Hunter Valley. We had many adventures. We stopped at some dive I think to get fuel, and they had a small dining area inside. I remember you showing me these meat pies and told me to try one. I couldn’t decide between two, so you bought both and we shared.
We were sitting at a table in contented silence sharing our grub when in walked a rather large family. I don’t mean they had a lot of children. I mean factually – they were extremely rotund. I recall two teenage children. They ordered a massive amount of food and dug in. They heartily enjoyed their meals. The boy had a milkshake. He ate that milkshake with relish. I have never – before or since – seen someone enjoy a milkshake as much as that burly boy.
The boy had his head tipped back, the milkshake glass up to his mouth trying to get every last luscious drop. He literally licked the rim and insides of the glass with his pink tongue as he closed his eyes. His hand was tapping the bottom of the glass to hurry the trickle. He was in some state of sugar bliss.
His sister told him it was time to leave. The boy had trouble putting down the glass. The parents had already walked out, expecting their children to follow. The sister was insisting that her brother put down the glass and leave with her. He pushed his chair back, stood up, started to follow his sister but came back twice to tip that milkshake container to his lips. He appeared crestfallen that he had to leave when there might be a drop or two of his sweet treat left in the glass.
We watched the boy in complete awe during his love affair with that milkshake. I glanced at your face; derision and scorn were etched in your features. You were aghast at his behavior. I started giggling at the look on your face. You stated, “I thought he was going to cry leaving that glass.” I laughed even harder.
I can’t even recall if we finished our food. You mentioned that you think your appetite had vanished due to the lick-love-fest we had just witnessed. We did not order a milkshake. I think we should have in honor of true milkshake love.
I can’t even talk about it with you now without falling into fits of laughter. I can still see the boy, his look of longing, and your face full of disgust. Good times love, good times.
My Chocolate Malted Darling
We were in the town of Cessnock when we encountered this sideshow (now may not be the time to mention that you and the mayor of that town developing quite an affinity so I will leave that for another letter). It was a dodgy eatery where we had stopped. I have no idea why. It’s not like I would have taken you to many second rate establishments. No doubt it filled a need. The meat pies of which you speak are a staple part of the Australian diet. Sad I know, but most of our signature food comes in snack form with pies being the preeminent example.
That family was big, really big. I think you are being too kind in describing them as just rotund. They were enormous. They were so large if they remained stationary they would be issued a postcode (that’s a zip code in your American parlance). They moved like one globulous mass. If ever the expression “built for comfort not for speed” were to be employed, it would be for the benefit of these guys.
I remember the boy a little differently than you though. I don’t think he was yet a teenager. He was just so big he looked like a teenager. He was humungous. In fact I would go so far to say that he was probably taller lying down than he was standing up.
Boy oh boy he sure loved that milkshake. He inhaled it. In fact the milkshake disappeared so quickly that the only way you could hope to consume it more quickly would be to surgically enhance your mouth and esophagus. That guy had suction. To steal a famous movie line….”he could suck start a leaf blower.” Man if he wasn’t so young you would have been well within your rights to describe his actions as “lightning fellatio.”
He was heartbroken to leave. He and that milkshake glass had developed quite a bond. I think he had visions that it may become a basket of plenty, where if he returned enough times it may magically refill. Sadly that was not to be the case, but it was not for want of trying.
It was hysterical I know. We laughed and laughed about it. On more than one occasion we would look at one another, smile, and then burst into fits of giggles. Without saying a word we both knew it was the “Milkshake Kid” that had tipped us over the edge. They were good times my love, very good times. Let’s do them again.
From Sir With Love
©2014 Darling and Sir