Sister, sister – I am only going to eat three of these hideous cookies. One would be a sin, so alone, and two, of course, seldom works for anyone. You know…all the feuding when once it was thought to be perfect.
The shape, and pure bourbon extract, the buttery goodness, isn’t good at all. Not at all! So, I shall only eat six of these hideous cookies. I will dip them into a pool of cream, with rose stems swirling perfectly the edges of porcelain, to help digest them of course. I will even use the good silver, a heavy shine gone dull, to scoop the tiny vanilla beans off from the edges. We aught to clean these utensils, weren’t they grandmother’s, with polish after I suffer this unfortunate culinary fate.
I am not so delighted. On Sunday, I will cower from that awful square object, and its nasty attitude, taking up space on the otherwise perfectly content ceramic tile floor of the bathroom. Its numbers mock me. I never did a thing wrong to this object other than offend it by taking the side of cookies, and unwittingly at that. So, I will only eat these ugly, distasteful cookies, to spite the weight that wants to hold me down, or to support the underdog in this battle. After all, I have always aspired to be a hero—To save the day for the less fortunate. Also, the notion I was taught, “Waste not, want not”, is meant just for occasions like this one.
We should simply refrain from dabbling in recipes, or recalling childhood satisfaction from these aromas and tastes. Remember how mom would keep the chocolate chips in a Little Red Riding Hood cookie jar on top of the refrigerator?
For the future, we will keep sugar and baking flour on the shelves at the grocery store. There they can be safe, and I will not have to suffer the consequences of having to ingest such awfulness. It’s time to mature beyond such grips. It’s best for everyone. Vices, that’s what they are. Questions with no answers! Sister, sister – is there any wine left in the cellar?
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