Crazy Cookie Quest

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic


This is a short story that took me one night to finish, but it was a final ELA project. And now after a long time, I went back and edited it so it is now better than it was.

Submitted: January 25, 2017

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Submitted: January 25, 2017

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People would do absolutely anything for the cookie. Not just a cookie, but the cookie. It was a perfect cookie. No, the perfect cookie. First seen in Subway, this cookie had had a roundness which was flawless, an exquisite amount of chocolate chips, white and milk, and was not too hard yet not too soft. Legend has it that the ill-fated soul that originally stumbled upon this gift, yet curse, was literally torn between the decision of whether to succumb to the intense cravings or to display the cookie for all to see because of its otherworldly perfection. He died of internal bleeding, and the legends continue that his heart, brain, and stomach had actually split in half because each half disagreed with the other. Since that day, the cookie had shaped the world and its ideologies, and world leaders had dramatically destroyed their countries in a mad haze to own the cookie. And I had been paid an unfathomable amount to destroy it.

I wasn’t in it for the money, no no. I was surely going to be killed during or after my atrocious deed. The money would go to my family. I was going to give my family what I had failed to give them before. It would be through remorse, a remorseful gift to my family. The financial aid would have been used to fill the empty hole that I have created in the lives of my family. Nah, I’m just kidding. I was just bored and had nothing better to do. It was the same life cycle. Home, work. Home, work. Home, work. Even more work, stuck at work because of riots, still more work, even more riots, work again, and finally home… It just got repetitive and boring. In my mind, the world was just devolving. Humans were getting dumber, and lacking basic communication skills and ability to be civilized. I no longer wanted to live in a world completely controlled by technology and a stupid cookie.

The time had come for me to get ready to embark on my ultimate journey. Well, it was actually time to actually embark on my journey, but I had about half an hour of “last-minute” preparations to get done. When those were done, I grabbed a peanut-butter and banana sandwich and made my way out the door. A bullet whizzed past my face as I took a bite out of my sandwich. I looked ahead past the fancy rich-people houses and clean sidewalk to the high-security government-owned bakery-museum building. Living that close to something like that, I had had to be rich. Filthy rich. And I was. The streets had their usual rioters, as it was the only place they were legal. Cars were basically outlawed because of excessive wastes of energy and fuel, leaving streets open for anything. That anything was rioting, as the only place where riots are legal are on streets. the sidewalks, on the other hand, are where rioters cannot riot, as that would cause a nuisance to the ordinary working class. Nonetheless, they were shooting at the government people, who, naturally, shot back. A woman stumbled on the sidewalk in front of me, with her face and body covered with blood. She almost made me drop my sandwich. Her horrified eyes looked me straight at my eyes, and it felt as though she was looking straight through me and into my soul.

“Why?” she asked, quite dramatically. “Why would you let the government do this? Take this. Take it and change the world with it.”

Attempting to carry my messy sandwich in one hand, I took the gift, not knowing what it was, and carelessly stuffed it in my pocket. A vigilant male pulled the woman off of the nice, clean sidewalk.

“You’re not supposed to be there!” he screamed. “Let the man continue his life!”

He released the woman from his firm grip after pulling her onto the street. She respectfully and understandingly nodded, and walked off and yelled something or another to someone else.

“Are you okay, sir?” he asked in a concerned tone. Without letting me answer, he continued. “Here. Take this if you feel threatened by a rioter. It will stun anyone within a five-meter radius who isn’t touching it. This will definitely come in handy if you have an epic journey to go on worth writing a story about.” I grabbed the object, realising that it was bigger and boxier than the card-like object that the panicked woman gave me. Shoving it in my unoccupied pocket, I carried on with my journey.

By the end of my walk, I had finished the sandwich, which had been falling apart because of holding it with one hand to shove stuff in my pockets. I carelessly wiped the peanut butter off of my hands and onto my pants as I walked towards the entrance of the museum.

“Identification, please.” It was a nosy voice, one that made you want to punch the speaker in the face for no apparent reason. “Don’t ask why. Every week for a past month, people have been trying to steal the cookie. They were, let’s say, dealt with. Show me your employee identification, or you’re under arrest.”

“Guilty until proven innocent, huh?” I said as I put my hand in the pocket with the stunning object. “Well, this is what I have to say about that!” I pulled it out awesomely, yet dramatically. Then realised that it was the wrong pocket.

“Oh, darnly-barnlies,” he said. “It looks like you have an employee ID. That’s lame.”

He scanned my ID with a thick gun that looked like a price checker. I walked in, jumping a step. That was a lucky break for me, I thought. I was glad that one lady gave me her ID for absolutely no reason. I wondered how she knew to do so...

The building was, for a lack of better terms, boring. Quite boring. Hopelessly excruciatingly boringly boring. I expressed that by proudly flipping off every security camera I saw. I reached the end of the boxy, grey hallway. There was a boring sign on the end of the hallway with an arrow pointing left saying, “That way to cookie.” There were about seven more of those on the boringly boring hallways with that exact same sign to the cookie.Upon finally made it to the room, I was rendered absolutely speechless.

The room was breathtaking. It was so vastly small, so entertainingly boring. Just looking at the room made me hopelessly bored. Suicidally so, as a matter of fact. I just wanted to curl up into fetal and die because of how boring the room was. My eyes briefly jumped over to the cookie. It was boringly placed on a boring kitchen table on a boring plate, with a boring sign, this time boringly reading, “Please don’t touch.” The only thing keeping me going was the cookie. I was caught in a dizzy haze of unbearable boredom and absolute adoration. It was preserved so perfectly by the scrumptious layer of grease over it, and just looking at it made my mouth implode and simultaneously spontaneously combust with flavour. I almost passed out due to the sheer intensity of the flavour. Luckily, I was saved by the group of heavily armed guards. The cookie had disappeared, but that was the least of my problems right then. I was so surprised by the sudden action, that it could have awakened me from a coma. That’s what the contrast of boredom and action does to you.

“Put that cookie down!” one of the men screamed. I was confused. The cookie was gone.

I had to say something. “I..” I was rudely interrupted by a high-powered gunshot. “Oof!” I continued as I was launched towards the table. I had done a quarter turn in mid-air, and my thigh was on a sure collision course with the edge of the table, probably bruising it badly. That too was the least of my problems. That was because it had been shielded by something in my pocket. I heard an odd sound. It was a sound similar to that of an electric charge building up… Something revving up for the final… ZAP! The heavily armed men at the door fell down. I stood up, with an excruciating pain in my chest. I took the stunning object out of my pocket, and read it.

It read, “Made in China. Quality check passed. Best before 11/11/2111. Only to be used once. Caution: DO NOT USE WITHOUT READING THIS:” I looked at the multiple paragraphs of small text under that phrase and could tell that there wasn’t any more useful information left, so I threw it under the table. It took a couple seconds to recover from the shock that I had just experienced, but I knew what I had to do. Disregarding the cookie, I ran down the boring hallways. All of the right turns were making me dizzy.

I came to an immediate stop. “Oh, darnly-barnlies. You’ve been caught,” I heard. It was him. Before me stood the very man who asked for my ID card at the entrance. He was standing with another person. I looked at him grudgingly with sheer discontent. “Let me see that ID of yours.” With a shaky hand, I did all that I could. I passed him the card. “Hmmm… Seems legit. But it doesn’t add up. You’re the guy that flipped off every camera on the way to steal the cookie. I see you survived our new ‘Death by Boredom” look. You must have been resilient.” He pulled out the card scanner again. I looked curiously at how his face was swelling up. He obviously didn’t notice it as he scanned my card. “Oh, you have Martha’s card. Stephen, I told you to delete her card from the system!” he said in an obnoxiously whiny voice. “I’m going to have you killed for this! That stupid son of a biscuit! Next thing you know that lady’s going to disobey the au…” He couldn’t finish the word. His face was like a balloon. He barely managed to wheeze out a few last words. “How…? I’m… Allergic… To… Peanuts…” I looked at my hands and at my pocket and saw that they were messily smeared with peanut butter from the sandwich I had enjoyed at the beginning of the journey. I watched in horror with the Stephen, the man who was with him, as the evil man writhed in suffocating pain on the ground until it slowly came to a silent stop. In that moment, hundreds of heavily armed guards somehow poured through the bland hallways. They then stopped and looked down at the dead body.

“Do you know,” Stephen whispered in disbelief, “that you just ate the cookie that defines the world as we know it today, and then killed the very man who held corrupt possession of it?” Addressing the guards, he spoke louder. “You’re free! No more forced alliances with this evil man! No more threatens to your family! The world has been repaired once and for all!”

I was deafened by the sudden cheers and was carried out by a hundred arms into the streets. I heard people yelling, “It has ended! The cookie reign has ended!” And after a seemingly infinite amount of time high-fiving and hugging strangers, I walked home lightly on my feet escorted by a crowd of people heroically singing a fanfare dedicated to me. It felt like it was too good to be reality, almost like a greater being was working hard to keep me in the reality that I called home. I stepped through the door of my house, hugged my wife, went to bed, and fell right asleep, foreshadowing the exciting day of praise, high-fives, and gifts for tomorrow in my dreams.

The silhouette in my window was clearly not impressed as it walked away mysteriously.


© Copyright 2018 Bruvton. All rights reserved.

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