Clara sipped her Costa Rican rum and watched amusedly as the wild capuchin monkeys rifled through tourists' carelessly unattended beach bags. The capuchins were clever and pure evil at the same time. Clara squinted her eyes angrily. This smuggling operation was going to end today. Clara took out her phone and contacted all of her many Dubious relatives who were involved in the arts of thuggery and asked them to help her shut down the smuggling operation. The first to respond was Clara’a cousin Minnie who baked switchblade-shaped cookies, some of which had actual switchblades inside, which Minnie would often send to relatives in prison. Minnie told Clara she would send the smugglers a cookie jar that would change their lives forever, that is, if it would not fall in the wrong hands. If it fell from the right hands, that would make it a benefit to humanity. From the wrong hands, an evil. Cookie jars are no different that your run of the mill mere human. Inert. Transparent, and for all its good looks and the cravings it causes, has innards that will put you to your death. Oftentimes a murder hasn't happened due to smashing a cookie jar within a block of this writhing beast, but this monster is very sensitive to sound. It's like A Quiet Place, but realistic. I have to go to the bathroom. You gotta realize, this isn't like the movies -- people poop, okay? Jeez. Anyway, the monster did some stuff, I don't know. Look, I'm seated on the throne already. Can't we do this interview AFTER my dump? Why are reporters crowding in here? The monster is coming? Well, <plop>, news flash: one just did!

 

Comments

1 Woab's photo

dreamer’s opening line here is one of the finest I have ever read.

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