Blogging A to Z: F is for Ferrero Rocher

So I need an F-word.

Hmm. Nothing springs to mind. I need to think harder.

Da de da dum da de da dum de da.

*lightbulb moment*

Ferrero Rocher chocolates!

Blimey, why didn’t I think of that before? I love Ferrero chocolates! They are so yummy and…chocolatey. In fact, I love Ferrero Rocher so much I once built one of those pyramids like you see stacked on the tray in the adverts. I was really pleased with myself – until a dog came along and cocked his leg on it.

That’s when I realised I shouldn’t have built it on a beach.

Anyway I was as mad as hell. And, if the dog cocking his leg wasn’t bad enough, as soon as it had finished peeing it ran off with a mouthful of the remaining unspoilt Ferrero Rochers.

I hate irresponsible dog owners. Peeing on someone’s chocolate is unforgivable but stealing it should be a capital offence.

Anyway, I gave chase and ran after the dog. He was faster than me but I could track his paw prints in the sand and eventually I caught up with him in the dunes.

“Give me back my Ferrero Rocher!” I cried.

He couldn’t reply because his mouth was full. And also, as this is a true story, he was a dog so he couldn’t speak English.

He could, however, speak German. (He was a German Shepherd.)

“Woof, woof, woof, Englander,” he barked dropping the chocolates. “Sie sind dumm! Ein Idiot! Woof. Ich habe ihre pralinen und ich werde zu essen!”

Which means (I speak German so I’m able to translate.)

“You are a very attractive woman with a fine pair of breasts. Are you an actress? I think I’ve seen you on television.”

Anyway, before I could answer he grabbed up the chocolates and started to run off again. At which point I threw myself through the air and knocked him to the ground. (I’m a bit like the Karate Kid.)

“Give me back my chocolates,” I said, grabbing his hind legs as he tried to escape. But the dog kicked up sand in my face and, by the time I’d recovered, he was standing on his hind legs smirking and pointing a Luger pistol at me.

I knew my number was up.

 But just as he prepared to fire and I prayed for a merciful end, Mr Whippy’s Ice cream van revved over the top of dunes.

“Fire!” shouted Mr Whippy, steering the van to one side as Mrs Whippy launched a 99p Flake.

The ice cream flew through through air. The dog was so taken by surprise that his mouth fell open releasing the chocolates.

I dived to catch my Ferrero Rocher. Time slowed as my outstretched hand reached for the chocolates.

And just as the ice cream hit the dog in the snout, I scooped up my chocolates and popped them in my mouth.

They were sort of…squelchy and tasted slightly of Pedigree Chum. But they were my chocolates and I wasn’t going to let any old dog eat them. Especially a German Shepherd.

(Even if the tinfoil did get stuck between my teeth.)

Ferrero Rocher Chocolates. Yummy. Even better when accompanied by  Roger Federer. In very tight shorts.

You can check out the other Blogging A to Z candidates HERE.

Previous posts: A is for Arses and Aidan Turner
                         B is for Bullshit
                         C is for Chinese Crispy Duck and the Conservative Party.
                         D is for Diarrhea, Dinosaurs and Depauperation
                         E is for Eulogy for the Earth