There were several restaurants just around

There were several restaurants just around the corner that would sell you a tiny chunk of salmon for thirty bucks, but I was more interested in the cookies. Ever since I had

eaten a bad clam, I became something of a cookie-monster. Ever since I can remember, "C" is for cookie and that's good enough for me.

But would it ever be enough for Angela? I pondered this as I walked to her flat, thumbing the ring in my pocket. She had become my everything and I loved her, even though

she barely knew me. Sure, she had seen me once or twice, but I made sure to erase her memory before she began to recognize me. I wanted to get closer, but it became more

apparent that she was a man. I don't mind transvestites but I transexuals give me the creeps. When I see a vagina made out of split penis all I can think about is

sliced hotdogs with macaroni and cheese, with boiled, mushy broccoli, the way my mother would always make it. I started to tell Phuck about what a bad cook my mother used to be,

She would strain curds with an old gym sock. Pa-Huck,which was the way he was called, understood. His mom would take the dryer lint and encrust salmon. An acquired taste

"Laundry cuisine" suddenly made the jump to New York Haute Culture when Pa-Huck invited a member of the Experimental Cuisine Collective to dinner. His mom's Lint dumplings filled

the food critic's senses. He gobbled it down, washing it down with detergent wine. He loved it so much that wrote an article for the NYT with a five fork rating for excellence

and went back the next night. It was the detergent wine that killed him, eventually, causing cirrhosis of the liver and mild brain damage. He was a loving father and caring husband