Peoria cops are looking for Chocolate.

Not the candy. The hooker.

Twice, an 87-year-old North Valley man has been ripped off by a neighborhood streetwalker he knows only as Chocolate. The first time, he says, she took his TV and phone.

This week, she and another woman pushed their way into his home. Hungry, they stole a bag of noodles and a box of Little Debbie snack cakes. Chocolate also slugged the 87-year-old in the kisser and took his new pistol.

He called police. But they don’t know whom they’re looking for. After all, Chocolate probably isn’t the name on her birth certificate.

“She is a good-looking girl,” the 87-year-old says. “She’s about 25 years old. But I don’t know her real name.”

He is a tough old bird. Twenty years ago, while still working as a mechanic, he was pistol-whipped and robbed of $100.

He also was a bit of a gearhead. His police record (though minor) includes scads of traffic citations, including a ticket for drag racing at age 71.

For a quarter-century, he has lived in the same two-story house. It’s seen far better days, and inside is cluttered. He has a hard time getting around, moving only in a slow shuffle. So he spends a good chunk of his days in an old easy chair right in front of his TV.

But he sometimes has company. And that’s where trouble comes in.

He has two arrests regarding soliciting a prostitute. One count, in 1984, was dismissed; another, in 1996, resulted in a fine.

It’s possible those were his only such encounters. But I doubt it.

In fact, according to a police report filed this week, he said that last year he started having “dealings” with a prostitute known as Chocolate. I didn’t ask him to specify their “dealings,” but I don’t think they were playing Scrabble.

“She turns tricks in the neighborhood,” he tells me, gesturing to the street out front.

About a year ago, a visit by Chocolate turned sour. He says she grabbed his TV and a phone, marched out the door and disappeared. He later bought a new phone and TV, the latter of which he had bolted to the wall.

“You can’t steal that,” he says.

For 12 months, he didn’t see Chocolate until she made a surprise appearance Monday night. About 11:30 p.m., he was expecting company.

“A friend was going to come over,” he says. “She was supposed to come by.”

So, when he heard a knock out front, he didn’t hesitate to unlock the door. But as soon as he pulled the door open a few inches, he regretted that decision. He didn’t see the expected friend.

“It was Chocolate,” he says.

She’d brought along another woman, whom he did not know. The pair barged into the place, pushing past his feeble effort to shut the door and keep them out.

They said they wanted some food. But he thinks Chocolate wanted more.

“She was looking for something to steal,” he says.

Still, he played along. Recently at a Peoria gun shop, he plunked down $288 for a new .380 pistol. He kept it in tucked into the cushion of his easy chair, should anyone break in during his TV time. If he could grab the gun, he planned to escort the ladies out at gunpoint.

But as much as he was keeping an eye on Chocolate, she was keeping an eye on him. There was no way he’d be able to move fast enough to get to the gun without rousing her suspicions.

So he remained cool as the unexpected guests rummaged around his kitchen cabinets.

“I want some noodles,” Chocolate declared.

She and her friend found some noodles, which they put into a bag, along with some Little Debbies. As they kept poking around the kitchen, the 87-year-old asked a couple of times if he could sit down. Chocolate said no.

“But I’m old,” he said.

After he kept asking to sit down, Chocolate got suspicious and walked to his favorite chair. There, poking up from the cushion, was the gun.

Peeved, she strode over to the 87-year-old. With a fist, she slugged him in the mouth, knocking him to the floor.

She grabbed the pistol. Then — along with her friend, the noodles and the snack cakes — she stomped out the front door, just like the last time.

The 87-year-old called police, who combed the area for a suspicious pair of black females toting a gun and groceries. But the search went nowhere.

The victim is to get police the serial number of the gun. Though a detective is working the case, police have few clues about the identity of Chocolate.

Meanwhile, the 87-year-old hopes for peace to return to his humble abode. Life might be like a box of chocolates, but he doesn’t want any. No more Chocolate, no more surprises.

“I hope not,” he says.

PHIL LUCIANO can be reached at pluciano@pjstar.com, facebook.com/philluciano and (309) 686-3155. Follow him on Twitter.com/LucianoPhil.