It's chocolate, however it goes

I wasn't willing to do it, or better, I absolutely didn't want to, I did it.

I wrote this absurd tale for @heidi71's contest #fotostoria - here's the link - and I translated it in english. I'm not a big fan of translations, especially when it comes to style, but I gave it a try. However, I use to adapt most of my posts here - even though it costs me a great deal of time - and I find it was challenging.

The picture here was edited from an original, the one which was given to everybody as a theme for the contest. So, I had to write something about the picture, a short story...And that's what it came out. It will be plenty of mistakes, I know, but I try not to care. Do it as well 😉

Hope you'll enjoy it.

It's chocolate, however it goes

Is she still there? Let me have look!
I swear, she's in front of me!
C'mon, take off! Ouch, Mark! You hurt my feet...Shit, I can't believe she's here!
Told ya. Just leave it now, they can hear us from the outside.
She's going to buzz, I feel it, l feel it, l feel it...
Shut the damn corridor light off. And be quite!
...

May I? Can't you just pretend you're not at home? You're out, I mean...
Shut up!!! She's talking with the neighbor who looks really upset. The hell she told her...Let's lock us inside your room, now!
Felicia's still asleep, what about yours?
No please, mine doesn't have a way out...Felicia?
What d'you mean by 'no way out'?
Yes, I need a room with a fxxxing window faced to the yard...In the bathroom, C'mon!
Bingo! Here we have a perfect way out: I'd just like to remind you we're at the 3rd floor and the first and only handhold available is that tree in front of us, which is about 100 feet far away. Oh, but luckily we have some soft concrete to crush our asses on...
The drainpipe, idiot! You really have no powers of observation, dude...And now just stop saying shit, Am I the only one who has to come up with something here or can you please, help me?
Really? Is it being locked in the loo and having a rusty gutter as the best way to escape what you call 'solution'? And none of that is my business, just for the records...
Who the hell is Felicia?
I mean, Felicia...Let me go out of here, you cope with your shit, I don't want to hear anything about, no more...
Just tell me who's this Felicia, isn't she the one we both know, right?
Let me pass, please...
Wait a second! I mean, what you're telling me is that at this very moment she's laying on your bad after...God...We recently spoke about that...

Felicia Brown, 28 years old, apprentice and, more important, Mary's twin sister. Mary is rather taking life less seriously, still messy with a never-ending thesis, even though she absolutely should. Everyone around her said that, even her ex-boyfriend Spencer, Mark's flatmate.

After five intense years of relationship, everything ended up with a big cheating scandal, a broken front tooth and a cheap mise-en-scène from both parts, though he was still having feelings for her.

You swore it to me, never more with my fxxxing ex's sis! You said it!
I don't think it's the right moment to talk about that, we have a problem to solve now.
Why do you care so much about now, weren't you taking off?
Shut up! I stayed here and I still am just to help you!
Really, and how? By saying that I shouldn't rely too much on some shit pipes as an escape route? Or by getting laid with the fxxxing clone of my ex?
You still remember why are we in this shit situation right now? Or did you forget...

Mark and Spencer, they met at the Contemporary History course at their 2nd year and become good friends, then flatmates. It's like if they know each other from way before, but it really isn't. Since Spencer lost his job, more than his relationship, he did a few services for some old friends to get some cash.

After a while, it turned out he was having more debts than before. Greed or need, whatever it was, he was looking for money, and soon...A random rumor heard at an even more random party, a friend's friend tale, a quick search on Google and there it is : a dating site for mature women. "Your daily dose of affection, warm as a hug", said the first message.

Wtf, could be an idea. Selfie, shirtless selfie, 47 more selfies, 43 of which instantly trashed, we go for the first one and two more. Post, 100 bucks per hour. We need at least 50. I mean, hours. Maria answers first, warmth and lonely, then Judit, looking for redemption after a grey marriage, and Shelly.

"Misses Shelly..." he tells her at their first meeting, in his broke student's room with a mattress thrown on the floor "'cause everybody says it looks hipster, there it goes..." "If you prefer, I can be your shell..." she answers.

Mrs. Shelly forgot her prime among some book pages, dried out from tens of springs, but her desire was still there. The weight of debts made everything lighter, and by the way, it was just a fuck. Maybe two, or three.

Then depression, drugs, more money needed and again, Mrs. Shelly. This time, she was the one wanting money from him, instead. Spencer asked her a borrow, 3.5 grand, cash, one month to give it back: "I need one week for everything" he guaranteed. Five already passed.

How could I know that she was even able to use one, imagine making videos while having sex!
Sure, a venerable old woman who wants to ride a beardless youth passing through a dating site...Is it so absurd that she also knows how to use a smartphone?
It doesn't mind.
You have to keep it in mind, they call it business risk!
Shut up you and your business. This will be the one time she's gonna screw me up! Wait...Does Felicia smoke joints now?
Nope, why?
Are you kidding me? I was smelling it from before, and man, I can even smell it here, now!
It may be the incense smoke.
All right, now I'm not even able to tell if it's a shit incense smoke or some ash smell...Duuude!

If in that precise moment, Mary would have had the foresight to hold it, probably she would not be staring in front of the bathroom door, half naked-half covered by a towel. But the truth is, she is there. And Spencer's staring at her with his wide-eyed and a deformed jawbone who slowly goes back on track: "Mary? Son of a bitch..."

Mark is a sportsman, his job is to bolt away with a ball in his hands and stick it on the ground, over the line. With that same excitement, he squeezes away crumpling under his friend's arm and reaches the entrance door. Left hand on the handle, the right ready to click the latch, as if he was holding a gun.