I remember when I was obsessed with Cookie Monster as a child & I insisted that my birthday cake BE Cookie Monster. Every year. For like, 4 years straight.
I would have appreciated his whole body for the cake, so that I could imagine CM himself giggling as I swiped icing off his toes with my fingers. But. Of course, I got just his head. With a giant cookie sitting in his mouth.
Every year I could barely contain my excitement it was THE MOMENT that I got to stain my tongue with the blue icing & get my hands on that giant cookie, (that I actually didn’t have to climb to the ceiling cabinets & steal, for once!).
My mom came through with this demand for her bratty child, because she was awesome. That and she was probably nervous that I’d kill the fish or houseplants again, if she didn’t comply. Yes, this really happened, but it was all an accident, (at least, that’s what I remember).
On my 6th birthday, though, Cookie Monster suffered a horrific death at the jaws of my black lab – Jake. It was the morning of my party & I descended the stairs all excitedly, expecting to see that big blue face staring back at me behind the clear film window on the cake box….
Instead, I almost fell on my ass when I shot myself into the kitchen, because I found myself slipping & sliding on Cookie Monsters intestines & fur. The scene before me nothing short of horrific. There it was. His guts. All over the kitchen floor. I could see his stomach contents, so I know what he had for breakfast, (cookies). I still had hope that I could at LEAST salvage The Cookie that I’m SURE he tried hanging onto with all his might, just for me. (With no arms and legs though, this must have been difficult. CM was truly a brave monster). But, nope. Sadness.
Then hysterics because, hey, what else what I known for but theatrical reactions to everything? I screamed over the mutilated remains of Cookie Monster & my mom flew down the stairs to see me standing in the kitchen, toes high in Cookie Monster’s stomach contents, spleen, & intestines.
I expected to be completely comped for this murder scene that was SURE to traumatized my psyche for the rest of my life. But instead, my mom told me to stop screaming & told me that she would get me another cake, but Cookie Monster was a specially ordered cake that wouldn’t be available that very day.
All I heard was, “NO REPLACEMENT, NO BIG, WHITE EYEBALLS FOR YOU TO GAZE LOVINGLY AT, NO BLUE ICING TO STAIN YOUR TONGUE WITH, NO HUGE COOKIE FOR YOU TO SAVOR AND SALIVATE OVER, AND STOP SCREAMING!!” “NO NEW CAKE, NO NEW CAKE, NO NEW CAKE!”
I don’t remember the rest of that day. I’m guessing that my subconscious has medicinally blocked these memories for me, so that I could move on and not kill anything in revenge.
Then, there was Jake. CM’s guts and fur all over his chops and paws. He should’ve been ashamed of himself and held his head in dog shame, but no. Jake didn’t give a shit about my anguish. I thought we had something. After all the scraps and treats that I’d sneak to him…
After the Cookie Monster Massacre. He ate super glue which in turn, glued his mouth shut. I didn’t feel sorry for him that time, because, well, he stole my childhood from me & destroyed all of my Cookie Monster-laden memories.
After he came home with some sort of rodent’s body parts, (and more importantly, after he ripped apart my new kitten poster), he was taken to someone’s farm to release his aggression upon feral cats and rodents. That was the last I saw of the Cookie Monster murderer.
To this day, I’ve yet to be compensated for that cake.
My parallel obsession was Snoopy. You’d think that I’d have gotten a Snoopy cake. Nooo. After the CM Massacre, I got nothing but boring, character-free cakes.
I don’t understand. I should ask my therapist about this.
- Was it karma for all of the cookies I’d stolen while mom was asleep?
- The time(s) I cut my sister’s hair and some of the neighborhood kid’s, as well?
- The time I stole the trellis from mean old lady and planted it in a more deserving neighbor’s yard?
- The time I told my sister to hide in the laundry chute, knowing full well that she’d get stuck?
Clearly, all of these incidents, (and ones not mentioned), were just commons acts of innocent children…?
So, thanks Jake, for ruining my childhood. May your bones be stained blue for your sins and Cookie Monster leave crumbs all over your grave.
PS – Heh – Just kidding, Jake. Please don’t consider taking up Dog Poltergeisting activities within my household.
Elle Diabla cuts the legs off of birds and one time she was driving in the desert and no lie a rabbit exploded when she looked at it. You can meet her and the rest of her pornorific friends over at her forum: 4lulz.
You can also see her stomach if you play Guess my Netflix cause I’m pretty sure I used her to write the little Preview Images on. You can also see the inside of her head if she ever got an MRI of her head and you were the person who did it. What? You try to write a bio of someone who cuts up birds. It’s hard!