Ok, so I don't know how to count. Sue me, why don't ya?!
In other, better news, here's a new story! It's about an unstoppable cookie flood. From where do they come? Elves in the pipes. Elves in the chimney. Elves! All the time elves. I never did trust them, but all they do is make freakin' cookies all the time. What's not to trust, you ask? How do they not get huge? That's why I don't trust them. They're not being forthright about their eating habits. You never see them eating the cookies, do you? Do you?! They just force them on us, endlessly, forever. I'm sure there's some Elven conspiracy in there somewhere, but I'm too full to concern myself with it right now.
This idea is from Rachel, a school friend who apparently values cookies over knowledge. I don't blame her. Follow her multiple times on Twitter, @rachpenner and @energyofdance. One of them is about dancing. The other is about like, stuff, and junk. Both are wonderful, and so is she. Enjoy the story, yo.
I
should be reading. I should be writing. I should be studying, learning,
educating myself. I should be doing any damn thing but eating. But
these cookies. These cookies are everywhere, and they just keep coming,
flowing in the windows and through the door and down the chimney and out
of the drain in the bathtub. To stave off death I must first stave off
hunger. But I’m not hungry. Not anymore. But these cookies! So I eat. I
eat. The body only has so much room. My home only has so many rooms. All
are full of these cookies.
Are you happy that I made cookies scary? I sure am. I am now scared, and happy. Life can be confusing. Okay, I'll write another story tomorrow, and you'll like it just as much, I'm sure.
Bye.
-V-
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