The Correlation Between the Disappearance of Chocolate Oranges and the Kidnappings of Soft Toys

It was several years ago now that I was given a Terry's Chocolate Orange by a certain nondescript amateur writer as a birthday present. I accepted the tasty treat, and took it home to devour when the next full moon appeared.

I very carefully placed the blue and orange box in the kitchen cupboard, and walked away.

I was mighty confused when I came back at the next full moon to find that there was no longer a Chocolate Orange in my cupboard. Therefore I decided to ask around, like the members of the Scooby Doo gang, except better. Because I'm real, and I don't have glasses to lose.

I started by asking myself, because as you most likely know by now, I like to travel back in time and cross my own time stream. This is of course very dangerous, but I like to take risks. Up til now, nothing untowards has occurred. So I will continue until a pinhole wormhole swallows me and the rest of existence. Because I'm great that way.

It turns out that a certain future version of me knew what had happened, but didn't want to ruin the surprise. I didn't argue, because of course arguing with yourself is a sign of madness. So I took my word for it. If you can't trust yourself, then who can you trust? Not yourself is the answer. But I digress.

It was several days before I found out the answer to my question. It was, as with most things, found out over the dinner table. Which begs the question: Why do people say 'If only these old walls could talk'? Surely you'd learn more from a table. I have a valid point. Possibly. Again, I digress.

I was casually eating my dinner when a certain someone sitting to the side of me remarked, "Zippy got kidnapped yesterday."

This struck me as strange. The only reference to an entity of the name 'Zippy' that I could find in my formidable encyclopedia-like mind was that of a very strange orange creature from the TV show 'Rainbow', which is by now several decades old, I think. So, in true Professor fashion, I asked the question that was hanging over us all: "Zippy?"

The certain someone guffawed in their way, and answered, "Oh yeah. You don't know about Zippy, do you?"

"Obviously not," I answered impatiently. If there's one thing I hate more than anything else, it's people who drag things out.

"I was given a soft toy Zippy a while back," he explained. "As a joke, you understand. Just a work thing, he sits on my desk and stares at me. I zip his mouth shut when I bore of his gaping."

I tapped my foot impatiently under the table, despite knowing that he couldn't see this. "Elaborate."

"Well, Zippy was kidnapped the other day, and the kidnapper left a ransom note."

"And...?"
"They were asking for a chocolate orange."

My eyes narrowed. I could see where this was going. "Continue."

"Well, I came home, had a rummage around in the cupboard and out I came with a Terry's Chocolate Orange in one hand. So I took that in, left it on my desk, went away for a minute, and returned to see Zippy back where he was supposed to be, but with rubber bands round his wrists and ankles."

I waited several seconds until a forkful of spaghetti was on its way to his mouth before saying, in a quiet voice full of dark menace, "That was my Chocolate Orange."

The look on his face was priceless. Spaghettit halfway in his mouth, bolognese falling down his chin. After cleaning himself up, he mumbled a slight something.

"What was that?" I asked with polite menace. I like to sound menacing. It's scary for some. Others just laugh.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I'll get you a replacement."

"You do that," I told him. It was clear to him that this was non-negotiable as I chewed up the rest of my spaghetti.

*            *            *

To this day, I haven't actually been given back a Terry's Chocolate Orange. Every so often I subtly remind the thief of his debt to me, but he either ignores me, pretends not to have heard, interrupts me in the middle of talking or runs away.

The moral of this story is, never trust cupboards to keep your prized Terry's Chocolate Orange safe from members of the household who have a soft toy on their desk at work that gets kidnapped periodically. If that's too much for you, then just say to yourself, "Keep chocolate where I can keep an eye on it".

Family is like democracy: It's not that great, but it's better than the alternative.

And on that bombshell, I bid thee farewell.