He wouldn't hurt anybody. He couldn't even kill a fly. Which made his job as a Hit Man tricky. He took down payments for the hits though & with 20 unfulfilled jobs he had a lot of angry customers after him. It was his mean looks that made people hire him, but as pacifist hit lers invaded middle management, he knew his days were short. He filled orders at breakneck pace while pretending to heed the furor of directives from the back office. Break time. This was for all the cookies in the mint jar (I know it's very odd that they would put cookies in a mint jar) it was... the final countdown per say... In years to come the cookie's peace marches against mint evil triumphed. Martin Cookie Jr. A chocolate chip cookie shaved of his chocolate started a speech, "I had a chip..." "That four score and seven years ago..." The crowd of cookies blinked as Martin Cookie Jr. fumbled through his note cards. "Oh my mint," he cursed, eliciting a shocked gasp. For this, Martin Cookie Jr. was banished from the Girl Scout Cookie Selection. It made him a very bitter cookie, indeed. Rolling down an alleyway one day, he chanced upon a small elf who said he lived in a nearby tree. The elf asked him if he'd like to visit. After a short walk, they arrived. The smell of baked goods was heavy as they approached. This would have been the first time he ever smelled bread inside a pine tree if not for his Irish grandmother who had put bread in his face and stuffed him into a pine tree to prepare him for being a fauvist who leaned strongly into bright colors. Not that she knew that is what she was doing when she did it. But that is where his bread sniffing in a pine tree got him.

 

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