I eye the bubbling fountain from across the room. I’m in charge of it tonight and it must not run dry. The dark brown liquid oozes from the top and dribbles down the sloped slides. My mood darkens as I realize I must clean up that dribbling ooze when the night is over.
The chocolate fountain is on loan for our party from our committee chair. She cannot make the party due to finals. When I arrive early to the party, I take out the fountain and begin pre-melting the chocolate. Someone’s bored 13 year old volunteers to put the fountain together and I agree. The pre-melt proceeds smoothly. Getting the mostly melted chocolate into the moat is problematic. Halfway through the process, I realize chocolate has leaped from my hands into my hair. More party goers are arriving so I finish the pour. No time to wash the gooey mess from my hair. The other committee assistant scoops up some chocolate fondue, then dribbles it onto her pants and the carpet. This stuff is dangerously messy.
At the end of the night, I turn off and unplug the fountain. Tediously, I scrap the half congealed chocolate from the sides and the moat. My sweater is various shades of brown so its impossible to tell if its spotted with chocolate. My lily white arms are streaked with it. The sink is chocolate brown as I rinse all the parts in hot water.
When I get home, I reek of chocolate. If in the future I’m requested to look after a chocolate fountain I will politely decline. Chocolate is good in moderation in a hard format. Forget the melted format, its dangerous.