STEVESTON PARK-- Rupert's mother always told him that "Life is like a box of chocolates...and that you should use chocolates to attract yourself a nice woman...because women like chocolates." Rupert never understood his bon-bon crazed mother, and so he has gone through life lonely and confused. He is still following the advice of his departed mother, but he has yet to find love or companionship.

Rupert sits patiently with a box of chocolates, hoping to meet himself a nice woman.

Rupert is now sixty-one years old, and close to retirement. When he is not working as a tool and die machinist, or tinkering with Ham radios, he spends time at the municipal park, working with chocolates hoping to meet someone special.

He hasn't had any luck yet.

"I don't understand," asked Rupert. "I've got the chocolates, and I sit in the park waiting for a nice lady to come sit down beside me, so that I can offer her a chocolate-coated nougat or perhaps an orange cream, but they all hastily walk by, not even pausing to say 'hello'. I'm not sure I completely understand the relationship with chocolate."

Rupert has been going to Steveston Park for almost three years, and has yet to meet a pleasant woman with whom he could share a conversation with, as well as sharing a hazelnut cluster, or a toffee supreme.

"There's nothing wrong with these chocolates," said Rupert. "If I don't hand them out after a week or so I eat them myself, and then I go to Laura Secord's and buy another box. The cashier at the store insists that women adore chocolates, but I haven't met one that does. I think I'm starting to get a cavity."

Rupert is certain that his location is not the problem.

"I sit near the edge of the park on a bench, shaded by ivy and a maple tree. It's a quiet place to sit...and wait."

"There was one time when a young boy asked me if he could have a chocolate, but a moment later his mother came over running and screaming, telling him to 'get away from that creepy, old man'," said Rupert. "She was probably worried that the boy would spoil his dinner, or he may have been diabetic. I thought those police officers might have wanted a nice coffee cream when they came rushing over, but I guess they just wanted to say 'hello'."

Rupert's resolve is starting to wane. He's beginning to think that life's answers are not printed out as they are on the inside lid of the chocolate box.

"I think I'm going to give up on momma's advice," stated Rupert, "and join the backgammon club at the community centre. I'm getting sick of these bloody chocolates."

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