An agreement between two gays to end eachother's lives when the AIDS gets too painful and death would provide sweet relief.
The doctor told me there was nothing more he could do, and it was just a matter of time now. He left me alone in the room. I picked up a pillow and held it over his face. We had an agreement, a fudge pact.
An agreement that, after the holiday season is over, one will cease to indulge in the consumption of excessive sweets.
A: OMG, I think I've gained 35 pounds since Thanksgiving!
B: You're right, you've become quite obese. We need to make a 'fudge pact' that will put a stop to all this overeating.