(no subject)

I got caught today. The police came to my office and took me in. I don't know how I'll explain this to my boss. I posted bail and set a court date; there's a reckoning coming soon. When I got out of the courthouse, a mob had gathered. I ran away before they could grab me. Maybe they just wanted to voice their outrage peacefully, but I swear they had torches.

Let me go back a little. You're entitled to a full explanation by now, after you've supported me for so long without ever knowing what I was doing. I couldn't tell you, then, of course, even though I know I should have, but now that I've been caught, I owe it to you all.
I think you all know I've been getting into candymaking, but I never admitted how far I've gotten.

I have a fondness for dark chocolate, the darker the better. When 85% cocoa wasn't enough, I mixed 90% instead. Then 95%, and then 98%, and then 100%, and I still wanted more. 110% was exhilirating, but the impossible thrill just hastened my descent.

And it just got more and more chocolatey delicious the further down I went.

By the time the police caught me, I was making chocolate that was 4000% cocoa. I was tampering with forces of darkness I couldn't possibly understand.

They say I was risking everyone's lives in my chocolicious experiments, that I went too far, but I have no regrets. I'll sleep easy tonight, and dream of 4001%.

Curiosity is not Memory

"Remember," he said, "You can't spell mangonel without the mango."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked. Glib meaningless codas always pique my curiosity.

Well, he told me, but he didn't specifically say to remember, so I forgot that part.