Mystery Cookie - 4/5

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RE: Mystery Cookie - 4/5

Postby JBG » Fri Apr 08, 2011 4:32 am

The daily cookie had become a joke among my coworkers. Was it a secret admirer? Who could keep leaving me a cookie every day without getting caught, without slipping up and exposing themselves to me? I'd questioned my colleagues, my boss, chatting up the cleaning lady when I worked late, the delivery guys - everyone. But not a clue. If they knew - they weren't telling me.

The cookies were always delicious, with a unique flavor I had never tasted before. Whoever was leaving me the cookies was a talented baker and I actually looked forward to my morning treat.

When I arrived at my desk this morning, there was no cookie for the first time in months. Instead, there was a plain white business sized envelope propped up against my computer screen. I opened the envelope to find a newspaper clipping "Another Local Woman Missing - Police Suspect Cannibal Killer". A small folded note fell from the envelope onto my desk.

I picked up the note and read the neatly printed words -


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RE: Mystery Cookie - 4/5

Postby de2922 » Mon Apr 11, 2011 3:53 am

On Tuesday 6th of June 2006 for the first time in months there was no cookie on his desk. Instead it was replaced by a note. With no hesitation he opens and read:
“Hey sweetie it’s Grandma,
Yes honey I know I’m “dead”, no need to point out the obvious. Eko it’s time to reveal the truth. The truth is I’m not dead. I’m somewhere in Hawaii. I wanted to escape the life of a pursuit felon so I had to leave. That and I am an alien. Yes I know I don’t believe in aliens. But I am one. You see, one day far far away there was a galaxy full of diverse species equally intelligent. Then God decided to send down his angels and punish those that don’t obey them. We were angels once upon a time. Now why am I running to Hawai? I thought I’d be spontaneous! It’s good to have fun occasionally. I guess I always thought it would be nice and hot there. God is funny isn’t he? He created the devil, just for the pure purpose of sending him to hell. But at the same time he made him wired to enjoy it? Such a sadist I swear…. Anyways sweetie, listen, I know the revelation that you’re a devil may shock you and the cookies… well you always enjoyed my cookies so I thought it would ease your pain. And I wanted you to remember that even though right now you’re whole ethics system is on the line, sometimes you just need one cookie to feel better. Don’t worry more cookies are yet to come… In fact you have a cookie under your desk with a special ingredient too! Forgive me for lying to you. Oh did you see the date? I thought it would be a nice touch. Those human I swear… so comical.
PS: I’m baked.
Love, Grandma”

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Re: Mystery Cookie - 4/5

Postby CoenMontagna » Mon Apr 11, 2011 9:04 am

That Tuesday, just as always, Phil found a cookie on his desk. Same kind as always, too, oatmeal with chocolate chips as big as one of his knuckles. Just as always, he took a furtive glance around the reception room, chomped the cookie away in two bites, then cracked his knuckles behind his back. The mystery cookie might not be his favorite part of the day, but it was one of the highlights, for sure. He had long since stopped caring where they came from.

“Eh pops,” said his kid as Phil walked into the garage. “You want to take a look at this goddam Le Sabre? Can't help the oil from leaking.”

Phil wiped the crumbs away with the back of his hands, then got to work checking things. He had given up wearing gloves something like eighteen years ago. They were laced with scars, permanently oil-dark, and as hard as shoe leather. So he didn't see the point. His son though, he liked to talk tough, but he was a sissy. He wore gloves, and long-sleeved shirts, and hell, sometimes even safety glasses. Goddam. Sometimes Phil wondered if he was a queer.

After running his wide thumb across grooves, tugging on lines, and inspecting seals Phil threw up his hands. “Just put some sealant on it, fix it up good as new.”

“But where? We don't even know roughly where the leak--”

“Hell if I know. Figure it out, boy.” As Phil stood up straight his head swam and he had to steady it with a dirty palm.

“You ok, pops?” his kid said, a stupid little smirk on his face. A kid should show his man some goddam respect, thought Phil.

“'m fine,” he said, and then stumbled off to the reception room. There was a skinny brunette waiting there, but her eyes got wide when he walked in the room. People did that, he was a big guy and sometimes he scared people. He waved her away and she scampered out of the shop.

Doctors hadn't been able to help with his head. He tried so many, but they were all so goddam worthless. All of a sudden the floor took a giant leap forward, and Phil just managed to get his face in the trash before the blew chunks. When it was done he felt no better, and he sat himself down with a thud that made the ground shake.

Hell if he didn't feel horrible. Just wretched. His hand felt around his desk, looking for something he could use to pull himself up. The cookie crumbs turned to dust under his palm, and he felt his ring finger smearing a trail of something sticky. Melted chocolate chip, most likely.

When he brought his hand back down, there was a little scrap of plastic stuck to his finger. It was orange, and rippled along the side, like it had been stretched before breaking. “SAB 1251 – This product must be diluted wi--” it said.

Phil stumbled to his Ford, and he heard the kid call out something after him. “Going into town,” he said back, and then put the truck into gear. He drove slowly, but he couldn't stop the sky from spinning all around him. Halfway there he pulled the truck over, and if you can believe it he blew chunks all over again. He didn't remember driving the rest of the way, but then he was there and he shambled through the double doors.

The hardware store smelled like oil and leather and chemicals, all smells that Phil loved. But now he felt sick, just rotten all the way through. Like his bones were worm eaten and his skin was cracked. “Please God,” he prayed, “I know I haven't been a good man. I could a been a better dad, maybe a better husband. Please make me not hurt.”

After trying two rows of chemicals, he matched up the scrap of plastic. “Leyton's Assured!” said the label.
“Concentrated Antifreeze,” then “DELUXE COLDMASTER.”

In an instant, his repentance evaporated. “That little poop unicorns and rainbows,” said Phil as the world fell away from him. “That queer little poop unicorns and rainbows.”

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RE: Mystery Cookie - 4/5

Postby CoenMontagna » Mon Apr 11, 2011 9:11 am


Ahhhhh! Nice twist ending, I was not expecting that.

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RE: Mystery Cookie - 4/5

Postby dennie2356 » Mon Apr 11, 2011 12:49 pm

After canvassing everyone in the office, I had given up trying to discover the identity of my cookie fairy. If anybody knew anything, they weren't letting on and interference of the mystery had become apparent to my boss. A cookie a day may not keep the doctor away, but disruption to the office routine might facilitate a job loss for me and in this economy I couldn’t afford to take any chances. It had been months since the first dropping and I was no longer giving the morning treat a second thought, rather, enjoying the daily indulgence. So as I stumbled into my cubicle loaded down with my laptop, lunch, briefcase and gym bag for my after work exercise class, I barely gave my desk a second glance. Dropping my stuff onto my chair, I shrugged off my coat and hung it onto the wall hook. Turning back to my chair, I reached down for my laptop case and noticed the carton of milk on my desk. It was kid size-like the ones they sell in school lunch cafeterias, and taped to it was an envelope written with my name. Moving my laptop and lunch to the desk, I dropped my gym bag on the floor and sat down. The carton of milk was cold and I opened it to take a sip after peeling off the tape. Turning the envelope around I saw it had been sealed with a red wax imprint of a tree that smelled slightly of chocolate.

“What the hell is this?” I thought to myself as I reached for my letter opener.

The blade sliced cleanly through the top of the envelope and I pulled out the note inside.

“Greetings”, it began.
“Today is an important day as you are our successful cookie countdown candidate, having completed one hundred one consecutive days of cookie consumption. Based on your unbiased and unprejudiced ingestion of each and every cookie laid before you, the elves have chosen you as their queen. Acceptance of this appointment was fulfilled by partaking of the cookie nectar in the carton placed on your desk. We, the Keebler elves, look forward to serving you.
Welcome, Queen of the Keebler Kingdom!”


Jarrod poked his head into Emily’s cubicle.

“Her stuff is here, but she’s not,” he said, directing his comment over his shoulder to their boss. “Has anybody seen Emily this morning?”

Liz stood up from the other side of the wall.

“She walked in about twenty minutes ago; maybe she went down for coffee.”

Next to an open milk carton, a shimmer of red on Emily’s desk caught Jarrod’s eye and as he stepped inside her space, he noticed a note on the floor beneath her chair. Bending down to pick it up, he began to read, while the faint scent of chocolate permeated Emily’s vacant cubicle.

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Re: Mystery Cookie - 4/5

Postby Trissa » Tue Apr 12, 2011 6:50 am

Week One: the cookies were oatmeal raisin. They were huge, chunky with raisins, a light taste of cinnamon. They reminded me of the cookies from my childhood. I first ate the cookies with my morning tea at my desk thinking it was probably someone's birthday treat they were sharing.

Week Two: frosted sugar cookies. I started having those with hot chocolate, dunking carefully as I relished every bite.

"Amanda," I said peeking over the wall of my cubicle. "Is it another birthday?"

My office BF looked up from her keyboard. "Don't think so. Why?"

"Somebody left cookies on my desk last week." I wiped a telltale crumb from the corner of my mouth. "It happened again this week."

Amanda, dressed in her usual winter uniform of bulky sweater and jeans, bit into a stalk of celery. "Lucky you. Must be an admirer because I never got one." She sighed, digging into a bag of baby carrots.

A couple of months later I had munched my way through lemon creams, chocolate chunk with macadamia, shortbread and every other cookie imagined by a gourmet baker. I also worked my way from tea to straight up whole milk and indulgent chocolate drinks. The diet I had started before the "cookie culprit" hit took a hit itself. But the snacks were too good and their aroma filled my office cubicle with chocolate and spices. As I took every bite of those cookies, I felt sorry for my friend, Amanda. Just a twinge, mind you. We had entered the office weight loss competition after the holidays. While I was still losing weight, the cookies had slowed things to a crawl.

As the saying goes, all good things come to an end. It happened one warm spring day. The same day my favorite clothing store started displaying their new line of swim wear. Also the day of our final office weigh-in where the winner of the competition would be announced. The prize -- a gift certificate to that clothing store; enough to start off a new wardrobe for a new figure. I had already weighed in, coming in somewhere in the middle of the pack. I stopped by Amanda's desk, before heading into mine. I knew she had weighed in before me as her car was already in the parking lot when I arrived. The light was on, but she wasn't in. I felt sorry for poor Amanda, knowing she hadn't lost that much weight. She once confided in me that she wore those bulky sweaters and sweatshirts to cover her "bulk". Now that the competition was over, maybe she would like to share my morning cookie.

Imagine my surprise when instead of the cookie, this morning I found a manilla envelope with note attached. Opening the envelope, two photos fell out. One marked "Before" showing Amanda in sweater and jeans. The other photo marked "After". Amanda was dressed in a tailored shirt she had neatly tucked into form fitting slacks. My hands shook in disbelief as I opened the note. "I knew you could be my biggest competitor. All is fair in love and weight loss wars."

Behind me I heard the buzz of voices. "Hey, guess who won the challenge!"

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RE: Mystery Cookie - 4/5

Postby JBG » Tue Apr 12, 2011 7:15 am

Thank you for the comment CoenMontagna - it is greatly appreciated.

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Re: Mystery Cookie - 4/5

Postby eternoxamante » Tue Apr 12, 2011 10:27 am

Days got longer and harder as time went on and the painstaking reality of “working for my place in the house” edged itself deeper and deeper into my soul. My step mother’s constant barking and nagging not only haunted me at home, but she’d decided that I had no use for homework or the likes either and put me to work as her receptionist. Of course, father was no where to be found in the situation; “Darla’s a good woman,” - he would say it over and over again, like a broken record - “she’s good to me. I’m too old to find another wife.” So I was at her mercy because she was “good” to him. (Whether that means that she was a good woman or just good in bed, I’ll never really know. I don’t care enough to know.)
So when I walked into the office and scanned my desk as I tossed my bag over it, it was a pleasant surprise to find a cookie where my pen used to be, and my pen in it’s rightful place in the pencil cup. My eyes danced around the front of the office, where I saw the two or three customers, and they all seemed either preoccupied or unnerved by the fact that I had just thrown my bag. I walked around the desk and sat down in the chair slowly and carefully and I observed the treat sitting delicately on the napkin. I started fumbling around and looking for any sort of note or letter that would give any sort of hint as to who left it. I got nothing.
My first instinct was to throw it away; what if someone had poisoned it? But then I realized that that was a silly thought in and of itself due to the fact no one really hated me. No one really took notice of me, so why would they want to poison me with a cookie? And even if my step mother hated me that much, there was no way that she would kill me with something as innocent as a cookie. She wasn’t clever enough for that. So after careful consideration, I broke off a little piece of the cookie and I popped it delicately into my mouth. As I did so, my step mother stepped out and called a name. As a client rose to their feet and headed towards her, she glowered at me.

“You’re late,” she barked, “and quit eating in my office. If you attract ants, I swear…!” And then she turned back into her private room and took the customer with her.

So I ate the cookie as fast as I could while at the same time checking people in for their appointments. The next day, the pattern repeated; cookie, search, take a small bite, get scolded, eat said cookie as fast as possible while still doing my job, repeat the next day. This cycle continued on and on for about three months, and work became a little pleasure as opposed to another annoyance. But the first day of what would have been the fourth month, there was something else at my desk.
I couldn’t quite see it from the door, but as I walked closer I could see that there was no cookie, which served as a minor disappointment. But when I saw what was actually waiting for me, a smile made it’s way across my face. There was a small, wooden toy soldier standing on my desk with a drum around his neck and his drum sticks in hand. His face was painted in the softest of smiles, and his tall hat looked soft, and he was only about four inches in size and approximately two in width. I walked around my desk and sat down, putting my bag down and picking the toy soldier up. On the drum, there was a yellow post-it note that seemed to swallow the drum whole.

“Sometimes,” it read, “you just have to soldier on. Sorry that there’s no cookie today; we’ll be back on schedule tomorrow.”

I glanced around the office after I stared at the post-it note. There was no one behaving suspiciously; no one even seemed to notice the small treasure that I held in my hand. But at that moment, I decided that I really didn’t care about who was giving me these gifts. I stuck the note to my computer monitor and set the soldier next to my pencil cup.

“You’re late.” My step mother stepped out of the office and glowered at my small soldier. “What is that ugly thing?”

I took a deep breath and called out a small, “Next, please?”
All that really mattered was that someone cared enough about making me smile that they would even apologize for being unable to do something nice. That was the best treasure of all.

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Re: Mystery Cookie - 4/5

Postby tpeacy » Wed Apr 13, 2011 11:18 am

Instead of a cookie, there is a note. She unfolds the note, thinking about the cookie and how it would have been just the thing this morning. She’d missed the bus and was caught in an unexpected spring shower on the walk in. Thoughts of sugar, flour and chocolate pushed her forward.

Every morning for the last three months, she arrives at her desk and finds a delicious, homemade chocolate chip cookie. It is perfect: no nuts, no oatmeal, just a simple chocolate chip cookie. The soft kind: her favorite.

Until this morning.

Her ears burn hot and red as she reads the message on the sheet of paper. She slams it on her desk and stalks up and down the cubicle aisle, glaring at the backs of heads, wondering as she has for twelve weeks, who it could be, though her motivation has changed.

When the cookies first appeared, she was concerned. She doesn’t know everyone working on this floor. The treat could be dangerous. However, instead of tossing the cookie into the trash, she placed it in a desk drawer. That afternoon, following a heated discussion with a co-worker regarding misuse of the fax machine, she’d rediscovered the cookie and ate it in two bites.

The next morning, when a new cookie was waiting at her desk, she dipped it in her coffee and ate it while checking her email.

As she is making her way back to her desk, still slightly purple with anger, she finds that in her brief absence another line has been added to the note. Someone has penciled in: VERY. Above, the original message reads: YOU'RE GETTING FAT.

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RE: Mystery Cookie - 4/5

Postby Pamwrites » Thu Apr 14, 2011 9:12 am

Every morning for the past month a delectable sugar cookie tantalized her lips. She had a secret admirer. With every mouth watering bite its soft fluffy white sweetness danced on her tongue. With every mouth watering bite of pure bliss a thump in her gut followed. With every mouth watering bite of morning its sweetness lured her masking the dark storm looming behind.
As the morning of the next day began there was a douse to her anticipated allure of sweetness. For in its place could be found a note. The bleak cloud of a storm that had loomed behind for the past month came about in full force. Heart thumping so loud it was all she could hear as she picked up the note. Masculine, neat, strong, steady, precise was her analysis of her admirer's script. Her mouth felt like cotton as she read her admirer's signature. John Culpeper, the son of the wealthiest man in town. The untouchables. About town, this was their nickname. Across every lip, fear could be heard, on those that dare utter their name. A refusal of both dinner and her admirer, no good could it bring, she realized. But--yet--the allure of sweetness lifted her to accept as the dark storm of a trap hovered overhead.


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