III. THE WAY OF THE STOMACH IS THE WAY OF A MASTER
WHEN ALL ELSE HAS FAILED, WE RESORT TO THE MOST DESPERATE OF MEASURES. COERCION. FORCE. FOOD. I CHOOSE FOOD. IT IS THE LEAST OBVIOUS TYPE OF BAIT FROM THE THREE, BESIDES, I WOULDN'T WANT TO APPEAR OVERLY DESPERATE. I GET MY CHOSEN PROPS. CHOCOLATE, CHOCOLATE. MAKING THE USUAL ROUNDS AMONGST THE DENIZENS OF THE CIRCLE (A TERM FOR OUR WORK AREA), I CASUALLY STOP BY YOUR STATION AND PROCEED WITH MY CAREFULLY THOUGHT OUT MODUS OPERANDI. PREDICTABLY, YOU NOTICE ME STUFFING MY MOUTH WITH THE THING."WHAT'S THAT?" YOU ASK.UNFORTUNATELY, DIFFICULTY IN SPEAKING IS USUALLY THE AFTER EFFECT OF THE CHOCOLATE'S CARAMEL STICKING TO THE TEETH. THIS RENDERS US POWERLESS TO OPEN THE LIPS FOR THE NORMAL GIRTH FOR DISCOURSE, OTHERWISE, WE RUN THE RISK OF SHOWING A MOUTHFUL OF BROWN GOOK. HENCE, I ANSWER SHOWING THE LEAST OF MY TEETH. "CHCLET, WNTSUM?" (PLEASE DO, I BOUGHT IT SPECIFICALLY FOR YOU). "UH SORRY, I DON'T EAT CHOCOLATE E, STICKS TO THE TEETH.".. STUMPED. ONCE AGAIN, YOU GOT ME STUMPED. ALMOST FORLORNLY, I WALK AWAY. WHAT TYPE OF PERSON DOESN'T EAT CHOCOLATE, I WONDER. THE SAME TYPE OF PERSON WHO DOESN'T NOTICE MY DISPLAYS OF AFFECTION, THAT'S WHAT.
