It read: "You are doomed, be thankful."
Do I trust the cookie and meditate on this? Considering, of course,
that it is in the nature of cookies to be duplicitous, what with the
whole sugar thing: tasty, smile-inducing,
comforting, while at the same
time eroding your cardio-vascular health, drawing you toward the
precipitous diabetic coma, and feeding all the shit bacteria in your
system. I've driven myself into anemia on booze and oreos more than
once; power-vomited as a child from eating too many peanut butter
cookies; choked to near exhaustion after taking a dare on bolting a
6-inch Gingerbread man. A formidable foe, the cookie. Which just goes
to support the premise that one can never be too sure with cookies."Well, so are you, cookie!" I shouted back at it defensively, crushing it in my fist, resenting its dimestore stab at crazy wisdom, and noticing as I did the cheap red and white plastic plate I'd just picked it up from that read: Thank You!
© 2002 Trebor Healey