The Chocolate Chronicles: Chapter One, Chocolate Two

The Oedipus myth, according to Freud, is one that echoes in our psyche like a glass breaking on a marble floor in the Bank of America. We are victims of an early infatuation--"the greatest love affair of our lives," according to many psychoanalysts--and though Sophocles' intentions may have been simply to entertain the masses, the byproduct of his play is a troubling theory of parent-child relations.It is with great trepidation, then, that I inform you that my mother sent me a box of Godiva chocolates for Valentine's Day."Vewwy intewesting," says Dr. Freud over my shoulder."You sound like Elmer Fudd," I retort.Psychoanalytically, these chocolates represent an unconscious longing; each truffle a sugar-filled serum of temptation, urging me to kill my father, marry my mother and poke my eyes out. Instead, though, I take a picture of the box:As you can see, I already ate one last night. This was after Tyresias warned me that chocolates will make me fat."Oh hush, old man!" I chortled. "Chocolates will do no such thing! Off with his head!"Today, I decided to document my selection. Perusing the box once more, my eyes glided past the white chocolate star, the red-foil wrapped ball and the guilded dark chocolate three from the lower left. I chose one shaped like a leaf thinking it would be filled with a delicious raspberry cream."I warn you!" screamed Tyresias, pre-beheading, "There will be no cream in that chocolate!""Quiet old man," I hissed and took a bite."Alas! Alas!" I shrieked. "Woe for my misery! Where are my steps taking me? My random voice is lost in the air. Oh God! How hast thou crushed me!"The leaf was a bad choice.