Why Maria Doesn't Let Me Near The Hot Chocolate Anymore

People often ask me what my favourite drink is.

Some dragons enjoy lava.

Some breathe fire and drink molten rock.

Some apparently survive entirely on mysterious glowing potions.

Me?

Hot chocolate.

Not ordinary hot chocolate, obviously.

I am a dragon of exceptionally refined taste.

My preferred recipe includes:

☕ One giant mug of hot chocolate.

☁️ Approximately seventeen handfuls of marshmallows.

🍫 Chocolate sprinkles.

🍪 One biscuit balanced dangerously on the rim.

✨ A tiny pinch of dragon magic.

The dragon magic is optional.

According to Maria.

I disagree.

It all started one rainy afternoon.

The workshop was quiet.

Orders had been packed.

The printer had finally stopped making its mysterious "I'm about to explode" noises.

Outside, rain tapped gently against the windows.

Inside...

...it was the perfect weather for reading.

Maria looked at me over the top of her book.

"Pip..."

"Would you like a hot chocolate?"

Now...

I have heard many beautiful sentences in my life.

"New books have arrived."

"The cake is ready."

"Bookshop sale."

But nothing...

Nothing...

...compares to hearing those seven magical words.

Would.

You.

Like.

A.

Hot.

Chocolate?

I practically teleported into the kitchen.

Maria placed the biggest mug we owned onto the worktop.

Steam curled into the air.

It smelled like chocolate, vanilla and happiness.

Then she reached for the marshmallows.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

She stopped.

...

Stopped.

I looked at the mug.

Then I looked at her.

Then back at the mug.

Surely...

Surely...

...she wasn't finished?

"Maria?"

"Yes, Pip?"

"I think you've accidentally forgotten the rest."

"The rest of what?"

"The marshmallows."

She blinked.

"No..."

"I've finished."

Finished?

Finished?

The mug was practically empty.

I could still see the chocolate.

That is not how marshmallows work.

The entire point is that eventually...

...you shouldn't be able to see the drink anymore.

Being the helpful dragon that I am...

I decided to improve things.

While Maria turned around to find the whipped cream...

I quietly climbed onto the counter.

The marshmallow bag was enormous.

Much bigger than me.

Which made opening it...

...slightly challenging.

I pulled.

Nothing happened.

I pulled harder.

Still nothing.

Then...

I used my teeth.

This...

...was a mistake.

The bag exploded.

It wasn't a gentle little pop.

It was more like...

...a marshmallow volcano.

Tiny white marshmallows flew through the kitchen.

One landed in the sink.

Three bounced into the fruit bowl.

Several achieved what I can only describe as low Earth orbit.

One somehow landed on the cat next door.

I still don't know how.

Maria turned around.

She froze.

Marshmallows were falling from the ceiling like festive snow.

The floor had disappeared.

The kitchen looked less like somewhere people cooked...

...and more like a cloud had exploded.

I was standing proudly in the middle of it all.

Holding the empty bag.

"I can explain."

She slowly looked around the room.

Then back at me.

"I'm listening."

"I think..."

"...gravity became unusually enthusiastic."

She stared.

"I've read about this."

More staring.

"It's probably weather."

Even more staring.

"...possibly haunted marshmallows?"

After several minutes of cleaning...

We finally made another mug.

Maria carefully counted five marshmallows.

Again.

I waited patiently.

She looked at me.

"No."

"I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking very loudly."

I may have been.

Eventually...

She handed me the finished mug.

It was beautiful.

Perfect.

Warm.

Comforting.

Everything a hot chocolate should be.

I took one tiny sip.

Then I had a wonderful idea.

"What if..."

"...we added whipped cream?"

Maria smiled.

"Already done."

"More whipped cream."

She sighed.

"Pip..."

"What if we added chocolate flakes?"

"They're already in there."

"What about caramel?"

"No."

"Biscuits?"

"No."

"Mini cookies?"

"No."

"An entire chocolate bar?"

"No."

"What about..."

"...another mug?"

"No."

I accepted defeat.

Or at least...

...I pretended to.

While Maria answered a message from a customer...

I spotted the cinnamon.

Just a tiny sprinkle, I thought.

It'll be lovely.

Unfortunately...

Dragon sneezes are surprisingly powerful.

"Achooooo!"

The cinnamon launched into the air.

Half landed in the mug.

The other half landed...

...absolutely everywhere else.

The bookshelves.

The curtains.

Maria.

The dog from next door.

Again.

The dog had impeccable timing.

Maria looked down into the mug.

It now resembled something archaeologists might discover after excavating an ancient volcano.

I smiled weakly.

"Rustic?"

She closed her eyes.

Counted to ten.

Possibly twenty.

Then quietly took the mug away.

"I'll make another one."