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vanisher

google THIS posted:

Always adopt your cookie from a shelter, and never buy Cookie Crisp cereal in a store. Most of those poor little cookies come from General Mills.

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vanisher

Flour all over her apron, a half smashed egg shell amongst chaos on our kitchen counter top, her shoulders arched as she beat mercilessly into the mixing bowl, was how I came upon my mother when I was a boy. She didn't see me as she worked. A bag of chocolate chips was dumped onto the frothing mass then kneaded in with ruthless force. I remember a wisp of hair falling out of place. Her palms and fingers were saturated with raw cookie meat, so she used the back of her hand to wipe the bead of perspiration that had formed from her brow.

The mass was slammed onto a rough wood surface. Like a surgeon she washed the cookie meat from her hands, although her apron and sleeves were covered in viscera, a bit of flour on her cheek. It was the force she used with the rolling pin to further abuse the once pristine ingredients that haunts me. Endless repetitions, back and forth, over the counter. I just sat in the shower weeping as the scent of the meat browning under intense heat filled our house.



Sig images courtesy of the talented Luvcow, Dumb Sex-Parrot, & Death Sext

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