Pudding Ritual



>peer outside
>still snowing somewhat
>streets are empty
>sprint back to couch
>arrange candle to be three feet away from eyes
>warm air wafts, but not too hot
>passions dance on your eyelids, but not too bright
>get up
>turn lights off
>cautiously run back to couch
>sit down
>lean forward
>light candle
>lean back
>cup of pudding in left hand
>right hand caressing couch corduroy
>gently peel back pudding top
>peek a little
>close eyes and ready my right index finger
>cautious plunge through the dark
>my fingertip collides with an iceberg
>I feel my feeler tear at the surface, cold goo slowly engulfing it
>one knuckle in
>passions dance on eyelids
>hit the edge of the swimming pool
>finger wrapped in pudding
>I begin to curl in a counter-clockwise manner
>(as if beckoning the pudding)
>it relinquishes its home to me
>its friends, its family
>from the depths I emerge carrying the treasure
>pause in place, stabilizing
>cannot drop the package, not allowed
>finger slowly ascends
>pudding slowly ascends
>red dancing on a midnight sky
>lips separate
>tongue gently touches the back of my lip in want
>delicious pudding
>bringing her home
>the cold aura reaches my mouth before its source
>lips feel a shiver and my body carries it through
>pudding on tongue
>every tastebud speechless, without word
>blessed are we
>my tongue flicks at the gifthorse, who is handing over its baby
>baby tax
>here are some licks
>tongue lingers too long
>finger must leave for pudding at once
>a final goodbye as cool air meets the retreating wet finger
>cold only gets colder as it dives deep in the depths again, taking a new passageway
>forging a new path through life
>come into contact with a previous pudding tunnel
>relate and know how this path has touched that path in time
>feel the cool pudding completely surrounding your finger
>poking the plastic earth
>another load of pudding acquired
>on my way home
>lips pucker out in anticipation
>unable to contain myself
>tongue lashes out, nips the edge of the pudding, violating its perfect surface
>tongue comes home and mouth wraps itself around pudding to console it as a blanket
>absorb pudding through mouth
>feel its cold, slimy texture as each globule goes down
>a cold feeling in your stomach

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