GET the COOKIE

[Skittlebisquit]

You had Q seduce my secretary? Are you even being serious right now? Well then, well i... do you have any idea how hard it is to find a pagan warrior princess who is willing to do office work?

Why do all my rivals live in tall buildings in large cities? All of these thoughts and worse go bouncing thru my cookie obsessed mind as i am tying off my rope to a convenient air handler on top of @Yeshuasdaughter building.

I carefully step into my harness, and secure it over my matte black nomex suit, and don a ski mask for my upcoming adventure. Why the skimask you ask? Its traditional, hey im an old fashioned guy.

I carefully repel down 12 stories, and hovering in front of a window, begin to carefully cut a circle in the glass. I look in checking for deadly lasers, pressure pads, tigers( you never know these days) and seeing that the coast is clear, i carefully enter the building

I tiptoe over to the fridge and look in the cupboard above it, where all people think to hide almost everything. ( my own similar cupboard contains a giant tarantula with a paintball gun) sure enough there it is. The cookie

This time i am sure to prevail, as i have brought with me a nearly identical replica, also contained in tupperware, to swap out with the original. As i ponder how devious and clever i am i almost breakout into maniacal laughter, but stop myself with a proven method.

I imagine being in an uber with justen bieber and ellen degeneres who are telling eachother how much they admire eachother! My blood runs cold. Whew! That was close!

I let myself out the door, with the cookie, and slip out into the night..
.

 

[Yeshuasdaughter]

The next morning I wake up and first thing I do, is go check on the cookie. I open the tub and staring back at me is a stale old grocery store cookie. "What on earth is this Great Value Walmart garbage doing here!??"

I grab my cellphone, and text you: "If you're mad at me about your blue painted hussy, that was all on her and Q. I just wanted the cookie. And get it I will." I then finished the text message with the tongue stuck out emoji.

I buy three trained bloodhounds and we track you through slough and swamp til we find your hideout, a dilapidated castle above a rocky cliff. Lightning flashes behind it. "The old Skittlebisquit Mansion. I should have known."

Using my expert lockpicking skill, I silently break in and tiptoe through the drafty corridors, seeking my precious cookie. There I find you, in your laboratory, the cookie is strapped to a cot. You are about to pull the breaker switch to send one million volts of electricity into the cookie. You cackle "Soon it will be ALIVE! ALIVE! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Before you can pull down the switch, I sick my bloodhounds on you. They run up and begin jumping up on you and licking your face. You are so overwhelmed by the dogs begging for affection, that you don't see me snatch the cookie, put it in my jacket pocket, and then rappel out the window and down the side of the cliff.

 

[Skittlebisquit]

I spend the next day playing with the new dogs and playing toccata and fugue in d minor on a pipe organ, as the storm beats on the walls of the old rock pile. The dogs are confused at first but soon become accustomed to the dark and spooky place, thats full of special needs animals in various stages of recovery, and a few antiques.

Its kinda messy, and it gets loud sometimes, but its home. Sammy bright eyes is looking espescially bashful today,from her perch in the corner of the hall, as she was supposed to be on watch, but its ok.

The dogs are helping with my fry bread experiments. I spend the day wearing an apron that says " kiss the cookie" (i have added the extra "ie" at the end of "cook" with a felt tip pen.)

I decide at midnight to deploy my secret weapon, i must have the cookie! Bannock will not suffice! The cookie shall be mine!

I tilt back the bust of aldous huxley and push the button concealed in its base. A panel slides open in the wall, revealing a keypad and digital display, thats counting down from 3 minutes. Carefully i enter into the keypad a 27 digit number that i have memorized...

The refrigerator slides across the wall and reveals an alcove behind it, that has a vault door in it, guarded by deadly lasers. Carefully i enter the combination and pull open the door...

Its commander data! He has been hooked up to a speak and spell, a popcorn machine and an old vic 20. I have been reprogramming him to aid me in my life of crime.

"Snuffleuffagus awake!" I scream with glee and a certain dangerous glint to my eye. Dry washing my hands, i watch in eager anticipation as Data opens his eyes...
" yes master, i live to serve" says Data woodenly.

I dispatch my new minion to retrieve the cookie, knowing full well that this time i cannot fail, its inconcieveable!

I tag along of course, to see it all thru. And so i see the android coming out of your building with the cookie in hand, and wearing some ones hat, and a bright green feather boa. It appears that some androids like to party.

Data gives me the cookie and heads for home, while i head for the nearest coffee shop, so i can buy a six dollar cup of coffee. This time you see i mean to eat the cookie. Nothing can stop me now.....

 

[Yeshuasdaughter]

I wake in a cold sweat after a feverish dream. I don't remember much, but something about saving my nemesis @Skittlebisquit 's life, and riding cross country together on a motorcycle. And then everyone's favorite lovable android had something to do with it too. What was it?

I stumble through the rest of the morning trying to remember the dream. Finally I snap out of it. I have to get that cookie back.

I throw on my leather jacket and jump on my motorcycle. Okay, it's Martha Stewart's, but Ol' Scissors Stewart is back in prison on a malicious quilting charge. I told her I'd take care of it while she was upriver.

I race down the highway, cutting in front of semis and racing cars with hemis. I don't fear death, I don't fear pain. I only fear life without my beloved COOKIE!

It is dusk when I pull up to spooky @Skittlebisquit Manor. I knock three times. Your android butler, Lieutenant Commander Data answers the door. "You Raaaaaang?"

"Yes", I explain, "There is something in this house that belongs to me, and I want it back." I shove Data out of the way and I charge into the great hall. There you are, sitting in an alcove with all kinds of baked goods. "Channa Nowannna Wookie. Ho ho ho!", you exclaim.

"Jabba the Hutt?" I ask, incredulously.

"Nah, it's just me. I always wanted to do that." You chuckle.

"I want my cookie back. Give it to me!" I demand.

"Never! The cookie is mine, always has been. Any delusions you had, I guess you were just 'clowning' around. Bwahahahahaha!"

I know that arguing isn't going to get me anywhere. Suddenly I see, on the far side of the room, the cookie, inside a glass case. I know I'll have to distract you in order to get it.

I turn to your android butler, "Hey Data, can I ask a favor of you?"

"But of course!" he replies cheerily.

"Why don't you tell us all how much you love scanning for life forms?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

Suddenly Lieutenant Commander Data begins dancing around singing "Life Forms, you tiny little life forms, you precious little life forms: Where are you?"

Meanwhile, I jump on my motorbike, speed across the room, smash the glass with my brass knuckles (I borrowed them from "Scissors Stewart"- she uses them as thimbles), grab the cookie, and charge out of there, cookie held high, laughing maniacally.

 

[Bert22]

Using a secret spell I found on the Internet last night and some chalk I found outside my nephews school, I perform the ancient cookie summoning rite, and the cookie is transported to the middle of the chalk circle.

I grab the cookie, and jump into the river that conveniently appears and float away to cookie freedom..

 

[Skittlebisquit]

Two politicians are arguing with each other on the bank of the river, about
1) which one is lying
2) whose turn it is to be the bad guy
3) why they both need more money
And other things. You decide to stop and listen. While you are distracted, I grab the cookie and steal your inflatable raft, leaving you stranded there.

 

[Yeshuasdaughter]

While sitting at the wildlife refuge, and enjoying the quiet and solitude, suddenly all the birds fly away. I notice that from around the bend of the river, a boombox playing loud annoying reggae is getting closer and closer.

There you are, floating on a log raft, dressed like Tom Sawyer, singing along as loud as you can.

From the overlook, I dump a bag of breadcrumbs on you. Suddenly from all sides, a flock of angry Canada Geese swoop in for the attack. You paddle for shore as quickly as possible. You jump out and run away from the geese, as they are nipping your toes, honking loudly. As soon as you're on dry land, I swipe the cookie and paddle away on your raft.

As I drift around a bend in the river, you hear me sing along to your boombox, crooning to my beloved cookie: "Don't worry about a thing, because every little thing is gonna be all right."

 

[Skittlebisquit]

Dejected and miserable, alone in the wilderness, my cookie cruelly taken from me I ponder the meaning of life.

Wait a minute! I am actually a trained survival expert! I decide to make the best of it and have an absolute ball. I make Wicker shoes, and fish hooks from safety pins, make my own cordage, the works.

I arrive burnt to my natural red brown skin color and kinda skinny in Tacoma, Washington at a seriously scary biker compound that has a 30ft tall cross made of telephone poles towering over it and a retail scooter shop in the front.

When I explain that I am the chief propaganda officer of certain crue, the lovely ppl there sell me a 35 year old Honda 750 with only 2
450k miles on it and no seat for a measly $30,000, in cash.

Riding towards my destiny at an impressive 35mph, I ponder my next move, clearly I am not quite as good at reprogramming androids as I had thought.

I settle on a plan that is quick and easy and sure to succeed. And so, eventually, I arrive at your door, dressed as the cowardly lion from the wizard of oz., with a singing telegram, a fifth of scotch, and some ice cream.

You are of course totally fooled by my disguise, and soon retreat into your rather tasteful abode, with your presents and I withdraw to lurk in the stairwell, and wait.

I loid your lock at 11:30 to find you having a little nap, on the couch, empty icecream container before you on the table. Carefully I sneak in and grab the cookie, and drift off into the night.

I have a totally fool proof plan to evade capture(and get some coffee) and so join a carnival sideshow, where my good friends set me up to be a lion tamer. That's where I hide the cookie, under the lion's bed. And we all drift off into obscurity, just me, several new friends, and the cookie

 

[Yeshuasdaughter]

@Skittlebisquit "Riding towards my destiny at an impressive 35mph"

LOLOLOLOL!!!

 

[Yeshuasdaughter]

I show up at the carnival. I try to buy tickets, but they are scanning people's irises to confirm their vaccine passports, and, uh, they can like, miss me with all that!

So I notice across the road, a mining excavation company. I use the heavy machinery to bore a hole deep under the carnival. Using GPS coordinates, I come up right under the lion's bed, and the cookie falls into my eager, awaiting hands. I tunnel back across the road, and skip merrily down the lane, reunited with my lovely, lovely cookie.

 

[Yeshuasdaughter]

It's been a quiet few days, and I still have the cookie. So now I sit in deep contemplation wondering how Skittles rode the motorcycle without a seat. A folded towel, a few encyclopedias and duct tape?? My cookie sits there on on the coffee table, quiet, unmoving, not revealing the secrets. So I apply patchouli, and meditate deeply on it, trying to discover how Skittles did it.

And yes, you have a nickname now.

 

[Skittlebisquit]

I thought all the real deal type of fellas always rode a greasy rat bike with no seat, it's like traditional. One sits on top of the tool bag, that's lashed to the frame, that's covered with an old barn coat, that itself is tied down, and then wrapped, kinda like a mummy.

Why would you go and buy a seat if you are not sure if the bike is going to blow chunks out of the side case as soon as you wind it up past 3850rpm?

 

[Yeshuasdaughter]

I thought all the real deal type of fellas always rode a greasy rat bike with no seat, it's like traditional. One sits on top of the tool bag, that's lashed to the frame, that's covered with an old barn coat, that itself is tied down, and then wrapped, kinda like a mummy.

Why would you go and buy a seat if you are not sure if the bike is going to blow chunks out of the side case as soon as you wind it up past 3850rpm?

As I use my Borg implants to commune with Skittlebisquit to retrieve this new information, I add it into the collective consciousness. We are Borg. Its uniqueness will enhance our hive mind, and improve storytelling.

My Borg cube is orbiting Planet Earth, and I go into stasis to regenerate, cookie safe and sound on board this vessel.

 

[Skittlebisquit]

I catch up with Q at a meeting for people in recovery from clowning around, and tell him that there is a Borg cube in orbit.

Q gladly helps me plan and prepare the heist, then teleports me up to the spaceship, dressed like a religious missionary. Our plan works perfectly, as the entire collective hides from us rather than hearing about

Coupon Redeemers Alliance for Peace, (it's a new one)

I sneak in to the stasis chamber and snatch the cookie, leaving several coupons wrapped around a lemon in their place.

I flew to the wild Amazon rainforest, up a tributary I know of to a secret ancient ruin. There is a hidden room, that has a secret panel in it and a tunnel that leads to a luxury apartment built back in the eighties. There I reside in rapture of my latest victory, under several tonnes of stone, in the middle of a trackless jungle, eating stale MRE's in comfort with my cookie

 

[Yeshuasdaughter]

I track you through the jungle. Who knew how greasy my skin could be when I sweat under bug spray and sunscreen? Yech.

I am about to give up hope, but in the distance I hear the groaning whine of an aging air conditioner. Slashing through mangrove trees and thick vines, I see an ancient pyramid, towering above the tree line.

I move in closer, and notice a flashing neon sign, reading "Shady Apartments". The sign may have meant classy living in the late 70s/ early 80s. But now, it just lives up to its shady name.

I ring the buzzer, and the manager comes to the door. He is from some unknown Central European country and he smells of Right Guard and moth balls. He yells at me about the smell of burnt onions in the hallway. I assure him I had nothing to do with it, and that there is nothing "a matter for me".

Grudgingly he lets me in, and warns me, to "not a'be a'pushin all the buttons on the elevator, because it's a gonna come outta my rent." I roll my eyes and try to explain again that I don't live there, that I'm a guest.

As the elevator doors close, he yells "and a'dont'a'be'a playin that rock and/or roll music past nine p.m.!!"

I take the "smellavator" (you ever smell the inside of an apartment elevator? it aint pretty, but it sure is memorable) down to the basement level.

I look over and see that the building has undergone some changes since the eighties. The sauna is now the maintenance guy's toolshed, and the indoor pool is now full of bark chips that are used on the outside landscaping. The community room is now the laundry room. And the hallway looks like something out of "I Am Legend", or perhaps the Borg Cube I was just on.

I'm not sure which apartment is yours. I am kind of at a loss, because I can't have the element of surprise and go knocking like a cop on all the doors, demanding to speak to you.

Then I smell it. MRE chili. Not just any MRE chili. This is stuff that's been in the cupboards since the Iran Contra Affair. I know only one person brave and crazy enough- one living being desperate enough to stay put and survive on that slop- in order to protect the cookie.

"Skittlebisquit..." I hiss through my teeth. "We meet at last."

I knock on the door. "Who is it?" you ask.

"My name doesn't matter. You have something I want. It means more to me than you will ever know." I threaten.

"No. Go away."

"Lemme in!"

"No. You're just gonna try to take my cookie."

"No I won't." I lie.

"Yes you will."

We continue like this for a half hour.

Suddenly in a gust of musty air, Scizzors Stewart barrels down the fire stairs on her road bike. With the angry manager behind her, waving a mop and shouting.

"Watch this!" She laughs

She throws a yarn grenade at the door. It blows up the front wall, and entangles you in a knotty crocheted mess all at once.

I charge in the apartment, surprised at the tasteful and modern decor. "Nice place." I nod. "Too bad your roommate is moving out." I snatch the cookie.

I jump on the back of Martha Stewart's hog and we disappear into the jungle. Our plan is to cruise up through Central America, heading for sunny Tijuana. We've got some partying to do.

 

[Skittlebisquit]

I deeply regret having turned away from a life of violent crime, as I am struggling to untangle the yarn, and realize I dont have any knives.

It would seem even my most secret and hidden lairs are too easily found out. My frustration builds
" foiled again! Drat!"
I decide that the situation cannot persist and I will do that which I had sworn never to do again.

I leave the buggy swamp on a camel and head to the airport, catching a flight to Italy , and from there go on foot to a certain church I know of.

The church is still abandoned, but standing and more important to me there is a little garden shed out back, where i used to live. I enter my shed and look around, it's all still the same.

I roll up the rug and open the trap door it conceals, reaching inside for a box that seems to eminate a sinister glow. I open the box and reach inside saying " yes, and so we meet again" I recover the item and carefully place it inside my coat

As I am leaving I am plagued with doubts. Should I really use this black magic device? Is the cookie that important? What lengths will I go to to achieve my selfish ends?

After I arrive in Tiajuana I am able to borrow an icecream truck with a kick ask sound system. Carefully i remove the dread item from its place of concealment, heading towards the tourist section of the city.

As soon as I reach the mercado I slip the CD into the stereo and turn the volume knob up to eleven, while quickly donning ear protection, several amulets and special glasses.

Soon the dread notes of doom begin to play from the oversize speakers. The effect is immediate, people everywhere stop doing what they were before to clap their hands together vertically, arms held straight.

"BABY SHARK, DO DAH DO DA DO, BABY SHARK!"

I shudder inside at my own depravity, that I would do such a thing as expose so many of these innocent people to something so utterly horrid

"Baby shark do da do da do" echoes across the now entranced cityscape, captivating multitudes who are powerless in the face of it, and soon all are singing and doing the shark dance, except you
Mwa ha ha ha!
I quickly snatch the cookie from its place around your neck, wondering why anyone would make a medallion out of baked goods and flee to the west in my borrowed vehicle, content at last

 

[Yeshuasdaughter]

As you cruise towards Ensenada, on the lonely Mexican Highway, you pass villages here and there dotted with tin roofs, and little goats playing on the hillsides. Other than the red-earthed desert, you are all alone.

You are startled by a rustling in the backseat. You crane your head back and see nothing. Just empty seats. Maybe it was just the road?

Suddenly a big circus truck pulls to the side of the highway. A chuckle of clowns tumble out and cross the road. You realize that it's your old gang. You pull over and ask them what they've been up to. They respond that with PETA shutting down all the Ringling Brothers circuses up north, they now have been travelling the Mexican Circus and Rodeo circuit, and found it to be very lucrative work.

As you're all reminiscing and pulling chains of scarves out of each others' sleeves for old time's sake, I notice you left the key in the ignition, and the engine idling. I climb out of the back seat where I've been hiding, and walk around to the front. I see the cookie sitting on the passenger seat, and cruise off to Cabo San Lucas. Life is good.

 

[Skittlebisquit]

Foiled again! And I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren't for you meddling kids, and that dog of yours, dagnabit!

 

[Yeshuasdaughter]

Foiled again! And I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren't for you meddling kids, and that dog of yours, dagnabit!

My daughter has been following this story very closely. She always asks "has anyone gotten the cookie lately?" And then tonight I was logging onto Forum Games and she saw you posted before I did. She yelled "Oh my gosh! Skittlebisquit! The evil Skittlebisquit strikes again!"

 

[Skittlebisquit]

That's so charming, she is still pretty young, like six you said? I wish I had kids.

Walker Texas ranger is actually an old acquaintance of mine, I taught him stick fighting one October when I was stranded in Texas with a cast on my leg, he is a great guy.

We chat sometimes. Sure enough, just as soon as you get across La Fronteria, its Christmas lights in the rearview and you pause to admire one tall drink of water as he strolls up to your window.

"License and registration please ma'am" he suggests like a tiger talking to a sheep in the dark.

You hand over the paperwork and he appears to call it in.
"Do you know why I stopped you today Mrs Wonderful?" He asks in a way that seems both suggestive and kinda shy.

"It's just ms now" you respond, "mr wonderful got frozen in carbonite"

"Oh i see, I'm sorry to hear about that ma'am" he says sincerely, tipping his hat. "The reason I pulled you over today, is because of your recent trip to Mexico, ms wonderful."

" we have had reports of feral clowns, rabid lions, and drunken seals. It's believed that the clowns might be affiliated with organized crime. Did you see any clowns on your trip?" He asks smoothly. The questioning goes on a while.

"Did you get that cookie in Mexico ma'am?" He asks with his perfect glittering teeth. What are you supposed to do? He is wearing a shirt that looks like frosting on a cupcake and his eyes are actually smokey grey, and they twinkle.

"Yes I did, but..." before you can explain anything, "we are going to have to take the cookie as evidence he says" and so it goes. You drive away with your life and sanity, but no cookie.

I meet Walker Texas ranger by a secret airstrip, near an abandoned warehouse and Walker gives me the cookie as I'm getting on the plane

It's only a gulfstream 3, just a little private jet I use for...creative marketing opportunities.

Cruising at 30k feet sipping sparkling cider from a champagne flute I look out the window, right past the other seat, that is holding a plate, a glass of milk, and
The cookie.