Mr Solid, Cont'd

Weaver: Oh. My. God. I do believe I'm gonna die. Mr Solid will have done me in!

Voice: Explain that sick demented post before you explain why you're going to die from a chocolate bunny.

Weaver: Well, you see, it all started earlier to day when we decided to go out for lunch. My mother, my friend blair and I. After stuffing our faces at Smitty's until we could barely move, and colouring our hearts out on the kiddie menus (blair stole the crayons after we left, too), we had to go to Safeway to get groceries. That's when it alllllll went downhill.

Voice: You met Mr Solid?

Weaver: Oh, we did more than meet him. You see, there is a range of Easter chocolates. Mr Solid and his friends. And the minute we saw them, not only did our minds go down the gutter, but it added onto the giddy insane laughter we were having that made my mother ashamed to be seen with us. The fact that we were afraid we'd explode because of all the food we'd eaten made it even worse. And then, much later, after blair left my house, and life had continued... we found THIS site. Which is what the previous post is from. And from which I do believe I may die. Thank you, and good night.

THE GREAT MR SOLID!!!!

Mr. Solid:

Solid on the Outside, Shallow on the Inside

Ah, Mr. Solid. This whole silly rant is your fault. At first it was only your name that amused me. Back then you were an anonymous Easter treat, with no cartoony box art. I looked at your chocolate face and thought "When you're THIS solid, they call you Mister!" It was silly, but it made me smile. Then they went and gave you and your friends cartoon identities...

And what an identity they gave to you! A buff, coy identity... a multi-faceted, complex personality. I was tempted into chocolatey sin by your lusty smile. Ironically enough, I missed several workouts while writing about you and your friends.

You see, Mr. Solid is not some mundane chocolate rabbit. He commands respect. Try to eat his ears first and he'll break every bone in your body! He's just that tough.

Beyond buff, beyond ripped... he's Solid!

His eyes speak of another side to this beefy bunny; a sensitive, sensual side. That come-hither look. The full, pouting lips. The way he carresses and fondles those symbolic lumps of chocolate.

He knows the score. He's in on the scene. He's Solid!

And yet, one can't help but wonder if he's as confident as he looks. Is he scared, under all that muscle? Scared of being hurt? Of being laughed at? Was he once a 98g weakling, a perpetual victim of bullies?

He might be compensating for something; maybe he's not the buck he used to be. Years of steroid abuse may have shrivelled his Easter Basket. He's not filling out that skintight thong very well. It leaves little to the imagination... and one imagines there's little underneath.

He's probably color-blind, too. How else do you explain the awful purple workout gear he's chosen to show off his glaring yellow bod?

Nut tries valiantly to measure up to his lapine lover, but the poor little rodent hasn't got the muscle mass. He struggles in vain to dead-lift his chocolate, but he just can't. Mr Solid doesn't even bother to correct Nut's form; he leaves Nut open to injury so he can feel superior. Nut's weakness makes him feel like a big bunny.

In the end, though, Mr. Solid's greatest shortcoming is his composition. No matter how buff he becomes, his attractiveness with be undercut by the fact that he is made of bland, mediocre chocolate.

Great body... no personality.