A Story about a Spoon . . . and Me.

The Dirty Spoon, obvious, eh?

Do not question the Dirty Spoon. It controls ALL. Deep within the filth covering this slotted spoon lies a treasure so grand, a reward so fulfilling, that none can resist.

That reward is this:

A heaping pile of fresh baked cookies.

The story goes as follows:

Several days ago, a hobbit-sized female of the human variety had a long day. It was a perilous journey from grocery store to over-sized conglomerate, multi-sectioned store, followed by a short break.

(Breathe, hobbit-sized woman, breathe.)

Then another foray into the wilds of urban society. To the doctor’s office her entourage traveled!

Yes, she took two young children and an Elder with her on her adventures. Usually the wee ones were a noisy, if sweet, distraction to bring on such travels.

Unfortunately for the diminutive woman, this particular day was filled with evil, destructive forces.

Their only goal?

Her complete and total descent into madness.

And they very nearly succeeded. She fought demon possessions, inarticulate babbling and behavior never exhibited before by the girl child.

By days’ end, the poor, exhausted small woman needed the only cure for her ailments.

Chocolate

She was lucky. There was a healthy supply of easy to make, three step cookie packages awaiting her in the cabinet. Within twenty minutes she had fresh baked treats that scented the room with a heady, seductive aroma.

But, as there is always a but, she realized during the course of making the cure, that the Dirty Spoon, yes the slotted spoon in the picture, truly controlled her destiny.

For how can one make cookies without a spoon?

Wait! Do you dare suggest that the precious warm, soft delights that cure any and all aches, make worries vanish, that wields a strength mightier than sword or pen, can be conjured with a weak fork? How dare you impugn the great Dirty Spoon’s honor? You are banished from the smell and sight of the cookies of the Spoon. Never again will chocolate melt in your mouth and also in your hand.

No Cookies for the Doubters.

Okay, so the circle and X aren’t that great. Yeah, my mouse-art skills are not that hot.

Eh.

I had fun posting pictures of the cookies I made and venting some steam in the form of weird ultra-short story.

But this hobbit-sized woman ran out of cookies.

So, I guess I’m on my way to make more.

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