The Triumph of Cookie Monson

With every bit of sugar left in the bowl, the woman poured the sweet material into the mouth of the begging son. Elated, the son licked his lips and ran out of the kitchen with a spring in each step. The woman smiled and placed the bowl in the sink, for a bath it will need. She opened a drawer below the sink and retrieved a large canister full of liquid. The canister was clear; the material may have been plastic, but the content was a dark red goop. Along the side of the canister was an imprint that had faded with time. What was left was a half-dissolved printing of a circle, yellow and black. The woman placed the canister of unknown content onto the kitchen table. She flipped a switch on the far side of the kitchen to turn off one of two lights among the kitchen ceiling. With half of the room darkened, the woman left the room. The begging son entered.

My computer has gone through a reboot and has become “fixed,” for now. That being said, I shall return to my endless days of watching terrible Eastern-based cartoons. Oh, joy.

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