It is the beautiful ones you have to watch out for. The ones who look so pure and good and innocent, but we both know they’re not. If you fall for their charms there is no intervention that can possibly stop you from sliding down that slippery slope. They’ve lured you to the edge and you, my friend, are plummeting right into their clutches. Even the most wholesome among them cannot be trusted. The ones that pretend to be nutritious, promising to provide fuel for The Glitter Globe with oats and raisins unlike their completely fallen cousins who boast chocolate chips or *gasp* sprinkles – but they’re probably the worst of the lot. Liars. Cookies wear many disguises, but when they start spouting healthy claims you can rest assured you are looking at posers.
It starts when you’re too young to fight back. A childhood injury is iced over with the little treat, likely slathered with irresistible frosting to be certain you cannot resist. It was possibly given to you by some well-meaning adult who is already so deep in the clutches of the wicked hordes of homemade minions that they know not what they do. Then it gets downright ugly. That giant fuzzy blue Pusher from Sesame Street urges you on. “Me want cookie.” “Om nom nom nom.” You are indoctrinated into the cult now. And all the apples and celery sticks in the world can’t help you escape once they get inside you. They’re in your blood. Yes. You have become part of the worldwide pandemic. The Family now owns you.
Make no mistake, they are all part of the same family. The scientific evidence is everywhere. I apologize for any racist stereotyping in advance but if we can please be frank for a moment, they all look the same. They might come in different colors and flavors and from many parts of the globe but there is no mistaking what last name they carry. Chocolate Chip COOKIE. Orange COOKIE. Oatmeal COOKIE. They flaunt it shamelessly. They use that against you too, the whole family thing. That often starts in childhood too – it is a brilliant marketing campaign – even your Grandmother is in on it. She bakes you gingerbread COOKIES. Look at that, a FAMILY of cookies. They even have raisin eyes, or if your Babushka is very much into the cult they might have chocolate chip eyes.
Perched on a plastic kitchen chair the entire family is flashed before your eyes. You try not to think about the fact that they are naked. “Which one do you want?” Well, it seems wrong to eat the children doesn’t it? So you probably opted for the mother. You start with her leg, for some reason as a child that seems like the humane thing to do. If she has raisin eyes you toss those towards your pet monkey who jams them into his ears, but the only one who will ever know about that is the Vet and that won’t be for another week so you’re good. Then you take another look at that plate and the children look so – abandoned. They really should be with their mother. So you’re just helping them out, right?
Best. Cupcake. EVER. Wantneed, needwant.
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