Chocolate Brownie Adventure

Is there any better desert than home-made chocolate brownie? I'm not sure there is. I had such a brownie the other day. This chocolate brownie was going to suffer its demise on the return journey from Scotland. How it survived the first leg of the adventure is still a mystery. Being preoccupied with other things helped I guess, and the cake was playing hide from the hazard, trying to avoid anyone or anything that may be a potential predator and cut short its life.

So the first leg of the trip came and went with great success for the chocolate goodness. It was soon time for the return leg where thoughts turned to all things edible and the inevitable, the chocolate brownie. Instead of devouring it however, I forgot about it. At least, I forgot about eating it. Temporarily that is. Instead I took pity on it and gave it my Swiss army knife and a torch. That was until I realised I was confusing the Brownies with Boy Scouts. I don't think Brownies go camping and find themselves wrestling wild bears with only their trusted Swiss army knives with which to defend themselves. Then I thought the idea of a chocolate brownie may sound a bit racist in today's society. I'm not racist, not the least bit, but it's maybe more politically correct to call them ethnic cocoa compositions. Though that just sounds like a collection of songs about chocolate so that probably wouldn't work either.

So anyway, after realising my mistake I promptly took back my Swiss army knife and torch and left the chocolate goodness in the car to find it's own way home. With any luck it can find a way of operating the sat nav and make it home in time to be eaten for supper. That is once it's recovered from the shock of surviving a two-legged car journey, a petrol station and travelling in a car filled with cake-eating human-shaped beings and making it through it all in one piece. Or well, maybe with most of its limbs still attached, though I'm sure the brownie has crumbled in some places, like the petrol station. In reality however, it's probably still trapped in the car door now. Screaming helplessly as its nuts drop out and its hair grows grey with mould age. I just hope it's discovered before it's too late...