Yeah, ol' Forrest might say that life is a box of chocolates; but if you ask me, I'd have to say that I'm a box of chocolates. One of those nice, fancy, pretty packages filled with sinfully delectable morsels. At least that's how it seems. Guys always want a piece of me, like in a fight, 'cause I stole their lady or beat their ass at pool, and girls just want to eat me up. I can get into it; after all, a man needs a hobby. And let's not forget, even Demons find me just edible.
To be honest, I know I have a hard exterior, maybe dark chocolate, rich and tasty; and it's a good thing I have that protective outer shell because with this life I lead I sure as hell need it. The thing is when you bite into it there's this gooey inside, soft and creamy. Guess you could say that's all my emotions, all the hurts and anguish I've suffered in my life…, all that nasty pain I've buried deep down inside.
It's the heavy emotional stuff that sometimes wells up and brings on the tears when no one's looking… or maybe it's just that Sammy's the only one paying attention. I've let my brother see me cry on occasion and I don't believe he thinks any less of me because of it. We've both been through hell lately and I guess it's only natural to need to let it out every once in a while. It's like the chocolate's been forgotten in the car and gotten too hot on a sweltering afternoon and it just kinda melts and the gooey insides seep out. That sure can get messy, and it's damn hard on the upholstery.
The big question is what's under the gooey soft filling? I guess nobody's ever taken a big enough chunk out of me yet to find out. More than a few have tried, but so far they've only broken the surface: a little chocolate, some soft, chewy nougat maybe, probably a nut or two, but nowhere close to the center, the essence of who I am.
What lies buried deep at the core of Dean Winchester? Damned if I know. Truth is I'm still trying to figure that one out. I know there are probably some more layers in there, maybe like a Take 5 bar, five layers of great taste. Maybe even more, wasn't there a candy bar out there with seven great layers of taste?
I only hope the center isn't a freakin' marshmallow or godforsaken piece of fruit like a maraschino cherry. I hope it's rock hard, tough enough to break a tooth, maybe like a Brazil nut or a solid nugget of hard caramel. I only say that because I want… no, need to be strong and reliable… I have to be able to bear the pain of this life and protect my family, and I'm just not sure when it comes right down to it whether I'm tough enough.
The fact is I don't have a clue what lies buried deep at the center of my tasty chocolate morsel. I only hope if the Demon ever does try to devour me it's something hard enough to choke 'em to death. That would be poetic, don'tcha think? Ol' yellow-eyes getting his just deserts!
bjxmas September 2007
All standard disclaimers apply.