Shall I eat the cookie or is it too bad for me and will it cause me to leave this world a little sooner than I might have?
It might not be so bad if eating one didn’t lead to eating the whole package and possibly opening the other one that was gotten in case one pound wasn’t enough.
Is anything ever enough?
Someone has so little control.
The bastardized sugar and flower melt in your mouth and turn into something like water in seconds and enter the life force — may as well take them outside and spray them with a hose for all the good they won’t have other than a momentary pleasure. The pleasure can last a little longer if all 16 ounces are eaten in procession or it can be stretched for hours if one is eaten on the main strike of the cuckoo clock.
The pleasure is constantly accompanied by guilt so what’s the good?
I’ll quit tomorrow.
Tomorrow I’ll eat sweet potatoes with cinnamon. Sweet potatoes are like candy vitamin A and might be the best hope against the latest virus scare.
Cuckoo clocks are everywhere.
Today the struggle will be whether to eat the last of the cookies or take them out to hose them.
It wouldn’t be very nice to throw them at the living things out there.
I guess I’ll have to eat them.
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