The Chocolate Heart
“You handsome devil,” Marvin said to himself as he beheld his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He buttoned up his double-breasted plaid jacket and straightened his tie.
“And now for the pièce de resistance.” Picking up the brown papier-mâché rabbit mask, he carefully placed it over his own head. “Fantastic,” he stated. “Nothing says romance more than the Easter Bunny. A well-dressed Easter Bunny, at that.” He removed the mask and set it down on the countertop. “Flora won’t be able to resist,” Marvin pronounced. “When she sees the Easter Bunny delivering a chocolate heart, she will be head over heels for me.” He gripped the countertop and leaned forwards, staring intensely at his reflection. “A heart for a heart.” He studied his own face for a moment, then, standing upright, he smiled and said, “I do declare that this is going to be a very Good Friday.”
As Marvin walked down Flora’s street, holding the chocolate heart, he went over the plan in his head. Put the heart on the doorstep, knock at the door, run across the street to the park. Wait. It seemed almost too easy. Arriving at Flora’s house, Marvin stopped at the steps and paused. He realised that his pulse was accelerating, and he couldn’t tell if it was due to nervousness or excitement. He took a deep breath and placed the mask over his head.
“You can do it, boy,” he said, and slowly walked up the steps. He gently deposited the chocolate heart, wrapped in foil, on the welcome mat, then he firmly knocked on the door three times and scurried across the street. Marvin positioned himself amongst the trees, directly opposite Flora’s house, and stood straight with his arms at his side. Presently, the front door opened, and Flora appeared. Marvin felt a lump in his throat. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. He wanted to run towards her with open arms, but he restrained himself. Flora looked left and right, then saw the chocolate heart at the foot of the door. She bent down and picked it up, and again, looked about her, and her eyes caught sight of Marvin across the street, standing motionless.
“Is this from you?” she called out. Marvin didn’t speak, but simply nodded his head. Flora walked down the steps and across the street, towards Marvin. Instinctively, he stepped backwards, as if trying to melt away amongst the trees. Soon, Flora was in front of him.
“Who are you?” she asked. Marvin didn’t answer. “What do you want?” she continued.
Marvin stretched out his arms and said, hopefully, “How about a hug?”
Flora furrowed her brow, screwed her nose, and shook her head. “Mmm… no, I don’t think so,” she said, dismissively, and turned to leave. Marvin couldn’t lose this opportunity; he might not see her again.
“Wait!” he called out, in desperation. Flora stopped and looked back at Marvin.
“Yes?” she demanded. She looked peeved. Marvin began to panic, searching for something to say. He raised his arms, wiggled his fingers, and uttered, “Baby… baby, baby!” His voice sounded like that of a blowfly, if you can imagine that a blowfly would ever speak. If you were to ask Marvin why he said what he did, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. It was the only thing he could think of at the time, and it seemed appropriate. With his hands still raised, Marvin waited for Flora’s response as she looked him up and down.
“You’re creepy,” she angrily proclaimed. Flora threw the chocolate heart at Marvin’s feet and stepped on it with her high-heeled shoe, crushing it. As she did, Marvin felt a stabbing pain in his own heart.
“Don’t come round here again!” she snapped. Marvin was speechless. All he could do was watch her storm back inside her house and slam the door. She was gone.
It was a lonely journey back home. Marvin had felt rejection before, but the sting from today felt so intense. He entered his flat, put the rabbit mask on the coffee table and flopped into the sofa. He sat there in silence, staring into the small, dull eyes of the rabbit mask and holding the broken fragments of the chocolate heart. He clenched his teeth and squeezed the fragments, and the chocolate oozed between his fingers. Tears welled up in his eyes, and Marvin leapt off the sofa and ran out of the room. He quickly returned, brandishing a golf club, and stood over the mask in a threatening manner. “This is all your fault!” he screamed. “You are a horrid, creepy thing! This is what I think of you!” He lifted the golf club above his head and brought it down upon the mask. He repeated this many times over and soon the mask was in pieces, scattered on the coffee table and the floor. Throwing the golf club across the room, Marvin sat back down, burying his face in his hands, and began to sob uncontrollably.
