12/12/2023 0 Comments Cookie crisp burglarYou can sell my stuff or whatever you want.” “And, with that in mind, I'm going to leave this house and you now, forever. And, there's no way we can go back in time and make it go away.” Her hands slid away. Her voice whispered calmly, “There is no way for you to understand what just happened in there. She slid up behind me and began massaging my shoulders. Green and brown slime leaked out from around the wound. I dug out an avocado and began slicing into the skin with a dull knife. She came over to me slowly, tracing her hand across the side of the counter. Now that I was near screaming, she had taken advantage of the situation with ease. I had forgotten how she could so easily turn the tables on me when I got angry and loud with her. “Hart, he has the biggest dick I've ever seen in my life. Jenna leaned forward, her long black hair collapsing on the bowl of fruit in front of her. “I have no fucking clue! I wasn't just fucking him!” “I mean, what the fuck? How am I supposed to deal with this information? It doesn't even make sense! Does he even have a penis, Jenna?” I yanked out a jar of salsa from the fridge and slammed it on the counter. “How did I know? Maybe because I could hear him eating your cookie from the street!” I stormed off into the kitchen and opened the fridge. She turned her head and looked at the hallway floor. I felt the first waves of hysteria jolt through me. “I.” she began, dropping her hands and sighing. “Were you fucking who it sounds like you were fucking?” I said, hands still leveled off in front of me. I could tell exactly what she was thinking, her eyes fidgety and failing to meet mine: How the hell am I gonna get out of this one? How do I take advantage of him? I mean, we knew each other through and through. An air of acknowledgment passed between us that we were both in very uncomfortable positions. A cigarette dangled from her mouth as she nervously dug into her robe pockets for a lighter. My wife stumbled into the room, almost comically. I stood there, unsure of what to do, frozen with my arms feeling out the space in front of me. The screen door shut noisily behind me, and suddenly the ruckus from the bedroom ceased. If there was one thing I could rely on every day as a child, it was that Cookie Monster was going to eat the damn cookie no matter how hard he tried to resist it. I used to sit in front of the tube in my white underwear and tear through half a box of Fruity Pebbles, following his lead and recklessly cramming the cereal into my mouth, bits of flavored rice and skim milk decorating the shag carpet around me. He was only my all-time favorite television character, for God‘s sake. could make those kind of guttural vocalizations. Yet, as I inched closer to the house I became sure that only one person. Maybe the guy was role-playing, I thought, or just letting his inner-animal take over. At first, I didn't recognize that the male voice booming from our bedroom was Cookie Monster. I stood there for a moment, utterly confused. Below his blaring growls I recognized the persistent and melodic tones of my wife in ecstasy. I could hear him all the way from the mailbox, where he was apparently in the process of devouring a giant cookie. Last week I came home early from work and caught my wife having sex with the Cookie Monster.
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