“Would you like a Red Velvet cookie?” my coworker asked.
I took one out of politeness. When it comes to sweets, I can take ‘em or leave ‘em.
“I just got them out of the freezer so you might need to let it warm up first,” she warned before ducking out of the office.
Not a problem. If it were a Pringles’ chip (aka my Achilles heel) I would have inhaled it. Even frozen. Sure, it probably would have hurt my teeth eating a frozen chip (I’m assuming. I’ve never actually tried it that way) but it would have been gone by the end of her sentence. However, I can wait to eat a cookie. I set it on my desk and decided I would wait until 1 straight up to eat it. A 1:00 snack would hit the spot.
“Hey, Corrrinnna,” the cookie called to me. It rolled the “r” in my name in an endearing way. “Why are you ignoring me? Look at my unusual hue. And my white chips. I bet I taste so gooood. You should eat me now.”
“What? Don’t I look good enough to eat?” Then things became weird when the cookie started to sing: “You want to eat me. You know you do. You want to eaaat me. I look so good.” I had no idea Red Velvet cookies originated from France. But this cookie had a definite French accent.
I ate the cookie. Mainly to shut it up. The cookie was not a liar. It was like a symphony for my mouth. It had all the right ingredients in all the right places. It was like sitting on a warm beach with nothing to do for the afternoon. It was like a summer’s evening gathered around the fire-pit and laughing until your mouth hurts. It was like… a really good cookie.
I walked by my coworker’s desk. “That was one good cookie,” I said as the understatement of the year. “Thank you for sharing.”
“You’re welcome,” she said with a smile. “Would you like another one?”
I sure didn’t need another one. “Yes, please,” I said as excited as a kid on Christmas morning.
There was no hesitation with the second cookie. I ate it on the way to my desk just to keep it quiet.
I did not have a 1:00 snack.
originally posted April 18, 2012