Chocolate Rain || Willy W.

#1~I Don't Think Chocolate Makers Are Supposed to Sing

     It is a cold and frigid morning, with frost hanging over the city like a cold blanket. You stare out the window of your father's chocolate shop, watching the floor of the Galeries Gourmet. Its full of people, all of whom have come to buy your father's chocolates.

     Perfect, dark, creamy, simple. Everything that makes a perfect chocolate bar. Everything that makes you diffrent from just one of those nobodies wandering around the city. 

      You look up to see a familiar face. Across from your window, Felix Fickelgruber jr. was staring at you. Felix, or more affectionately called Fex, was Felix Fickelgruber sr.'s son. Fex had his father's lustious silky black hair, clipped and gelled short like his father. He had green eyes that matched his suit, and he held his hands behind his back.

     Fex was an exact copy of his father, down from the tips of his hair to the bottoms of his carefully polished boots. The only thing different about him were the chocolate colored freckles below his cheeks, like stars across a night sky.

     You and Fex had practically grown up together, having being born only two weeks apart (Which he made clear every chance he got). You'd been inseparable in your childhood, partially because of your fathers' tight knit relationships. 

     You lift up a hand and wave to him. Her smiles, his pale lips lifting up to a perfect smile. Thats another thing about Fex. He always had a perfect smile. It's what had all the girls practically fainting in his direction, aside from everything else.

     "Y/n," A voice behind you says. You turn. Your father, Arthur Slugworth, was walking into his office, arms neatly tucked behind him. Arthur Slugworth, the Arthur Slugworth. You dip your head. "Good Morning, sir."

     Arthur Slugworth steps up next to you, staring proudly down at the people rushing in and out of the store. You take a similar stance as his, sparing a glance across the galerie to see that Fex's father, Felix Fickelgruber, had also joined them, and was taking a similar stance.

     Your fathers were practically copies of each other, perfectly synchronized in every one of their calculated moves. From your birth to the secret of the chocolate that flows underneath the city like veins, they have always worked as one.

     You admire that about them. How steadfast your father is, how important he is. How he turned himself from a lowly peasant into the head of a chocolate industry. With your twentieth birthday fast approaching, you were soon due to begin sharing the power with him. 

     You smile softly as you think about you and Fex, ruling over your chocolate factories, hand in hand. You could join companies, and instead of being competition, you could be allies. Your vision is shattered as a scream rips through the Galerie. 

     All eyes turn to Gerald Prodnose's chocolate shop, where his daughter, Mandy, is screaming loudly. 

     Mandy Prodnose, Gerald Prodnose's spoiled brat-daughter. Mandy, who is three years younger than you and Fex, has always been the bane of your existence. With her blonde pigtails wrapped in pink ribbon, and her pale, fat cheeks dusted with pink, Mandy has never lived up to Prodnoses' ideal vision of a child.

     Perhaps Mandy's growth was stunted drastically by the presence of her also spoiled mother, Alice Prodnose, because she doesn't seem to ever grow up. Mandy probably reached her peak at the age of five, and now that she is sixteen, going on seventeen, she still throws tantrums, like the one she is throwing now.

     Her voice is muffled through the glass, but it is high pitched and whiny. "But daddyy! I want it in pink now!" She stomps her foot, arms crossed over her chest angrily. It must be her car again, I think. For her half-birthday (yes, she insists on doing those) her father got her a white car. But immediately she saw it, she burst into tears. Not joyful, grateful kind of tears, but a whiny, bitchy kind of tears of pointless anger.