I’ll Have Just One

I’ll Have Just One

Parker glanced at his plate.  There were two cookies there.  He wanted two cookies, but knew it was a bad idea.  “Elma?  Excuse me, Elma?”

Elma came out of the kitchen.  She loved it in the kitchen.  The kitchen was her domain. “What’s the matter, Parker?  Why are you calling me?  You know I’m in the kitchen.”

Parker pointed to his plate.  “It’s just that… I only asked for one cookie.  I’ll have just one.*”

“Then just eat one.  What do I care?”

“You don’t understand.  There are two on my plate.”

Elma raised an eyebrow at Parker.

Parker persisted, “You know that if I’m going to eat one cookie, that there can’t be two.”

“Do I?” answered Elma.

Parker paused.  He was certain that Elma should be a little more understanding of his dilemma.  They had, after all, been together for quite some time.  No, to leave the extra cookie on his plate was cruelty, simple as that. “Elma. I must insist that you remove the extra cookie at once.”

Elma grimaced.  She hated it when Parker was so difficult.  You couldn’t have just one cookie. It was against the rules.  The rules were important to Elma, so was whatever it was burning in her kitchen.  “See what you’ve done!”  Elma left to face the cooking disaster in her kitchen**, leaving Parker alone to face his two-cookie dilemma.

Parker watched horrified as Elma left him with the two cookies.  He stared at them for some time.  Sweat began to bead on his temples.  The cookies looked delicious.  Maybe, it would be different this time.  Maybe, just one cookie would be enough. Who was he kidding?

“Is everything okay in there, Elma?” Parker needed a distraction.

“Don’t you dare set one foot in this kitchen, Parker,” came the predictable response from Elma.

Parker took a quick breath.  The cookies were calling his name.  Why were there two of them? He picked one up.  It was warm to the touch.  This was curious because he had been staring at the cookies for what seemed like hours.

“It’s okay,” said the cookie.

Parker dropped the cookie.  He felt the delirium coming on.  He could have sworn he heard the cookie talking.

“It’s because I am talking.” The cookie said as if it were answering the narration part of this story.  (Does that make it a fourth wall breaking cookie? Cookies are tricky like that.)

“You can’t be talking.  You’re a cookie.  Cookies aren’t sentient,” Parker insisted.

“What makes you such an expert?”

“Why am I arguing with a cookie?” Parker mumbled to himself.

“It’s because you're being disagreeable, what with you saying I’m not sentient and all…”

“It’s because you’re a cookie!  You’re a baked good!  You’re not supposed to talk.  You’re just supposed to be delicious.”

“I am delicious!” Replied the cookie. “Your Elma did a bang-up job when she baked us.  You should quit your silliness and get on with eating us already.”

“You don’t understand,” pleaded Parker, but he stopped as he realized he was pleading with a cookie.  Parker was becoming quite concerned about his mental state.  He began to believe it was time to take his medication. Yes, that was just what he needed. He rose to retrieve his medication when…

“Sit down, mister! You’re not going anywhere!”

Parker immediately sat down. The cookie was quite insistent.  It was quite the pushy cookie! “Listen,” said Parker with all the forcefulness he could muster. “I am a man and I am not going to be pushed around by a… by a sweet treat.”

“What did you just call me?” The cookie asked.

“A sweet treat! I called you a sweet treat, okay.”

“I really am quite a sweet treat,” the cookie acknowledged.

Parker all most broke into hysterical laughter. “Yes, you are! You really are!”

“Well then, what are you going to do about it?” the cookie challenged.

“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do!” Parker grabbed the cookie. “I’m going to gobble you up. Om nom nom!”  Parker immediately placed his hands over his mouth. That was a disturbing display.  As he ate the cookie, he knew he was crossing a line.  He eyed the other cookie. This cookie was a silent one, but he knew it needed to be eaten.  However, eating that second cookie came with consequences.  He dared not… “Om Nom Nom! Me eat cookie.”

It was too late for Parker.  He was undergoing the change. Blue fur grew all over his body.  His eyes took on a ping pong ball shape.  He was changing physically into the Cookie Monster!*** “Cookie! Me want cookie!” Parker began to demand loudly.  So loudly that Elma came out of the kitchen.

“Parker can you keep that ruckus down, I’m trying to…” Elma stopped dead in her tracks. “Parker, you’ve changed.  You’ve become a cookie monster!”

Parker gave Elma a blank stare! “Me want cookie!” He replied.

Elma ran into the kitchen.  She was gone for what seemed like an eternity.  She finally returned from the kitchen holding a serving tray filled with the very item that Parker wanted most.  “It’s about time you ate those cookies, Parker.  I thought this was never going to happen again!  You really had me worried.  Now, do you want cookie?”

Parker couldn’t help himself.  He bounced up and down. “Yes! Cookie! Me want cookie!”

Elma smirked, “Then sing the song.”

Parker didn’t hesitate. “C is for cookie.  That’s good enough for me. C is for cookie. That’s good enough for me.  Oh! C is for cookie. That’s good enough for me. Oh! Cookie, cookie, cookie starts with C.” He then grabbed the plate and with a “Om Nom Nom!” the cookies were all gone.

Elma called the hospital. She knew that her dear Parker had a severe case of Cookie Monster Muppet Syndrome or CMMS.  She just loved to hear the song, even at the expense of Parker’s health. Elma was a special kind of evil. Beware of Elma’s in your life.  They may present you with the gift of cookies, but that hospital trip will never be pleasant. 

*One is the loneliest number that you’ll ever do.  It’s even true for cookies.

** Smoke is the easiest indication of a cooking disaster.  Luckily, there was no explosive noise.

*** Well, you didn’t think it was going to be Kermit the Frog, did you?