The Coonridge Digest: Crunchin’ cookies

Greetin’s from the Ridge.

"Holy cow, Freida! You’re bakin’?"

"I’m baking."

"Do I smell cookies?"

"Too bad the rest of your body doesn’t work as well as your nose, old man."

"When was the last time you baked a cookie, Freida?"

"The supermarket opened its bakery on January 2nd of 1984. My last home baked cookie was on January 1st."

"So what’s the deal? You goin’ through a change of life?"

"Yes. I’m helpin’ out the Bush administration."

"You’re gonna send cookies to Iraq?"

"Nope. Read the note."

"‘To Leroy and Salizhan.’ You’re sendin’ cookies to the enemy?"

"Leroy’s an American and Salizhan’ a Russian."

"A ballet team? Is this some sort of gift to the arts?"

"I said I was helpin’ the Bush administration. How could I be interested in the arts? Don’t you read the papers, Herb? Leroy Chiao and Salizhan Sharipov are the two crewmen in the international space station. NASA reported that they’re running out of food."

"So you’re baking cookies?"

"Somebody’s got to do something. The country’s strapped, Herb. We’re gonna turn social security over to Wall Street and we can’t afford to put proper armor around our troops in Iraq. Now this. It’s time I jumped in to help. You think I should stick with peanut butter and nuts? I just got a vision of these chocolate chips floatin’ wild around the space station."

"Freida, you’ve lost your mind."

"Sure. You’re a Bush fan. Start something then don’t fund it. If I don’t quick get these cookies into orbit then those two poor boys are gonna die."

"How could they possibly run out of food? Didn’t somebody plan these things?"

"You tell me. You voted for ‘em."

"Freida, they’ve surely got plans to take ‘em food!"

"NASA said they’d evacuate the space station if the Russian re-supply ship explodes during liftoff on December 23rd. That is not hopeful talk, Herb. Does oatmeal travel well?"

"How in the heck to you plan to…"

"Shoot. Do they eat all their food from tubes? All I’ve got is Colgate and Preparation H. You suppose that would do ‘em any good at all?"

"I can’t believe you’re doin’ this."

"Me either. How am I supposed to get an oatmeal cookie in a toothpaste tube? Could you start squeezing on that tube in the bathroom? Maybe if I mushed ‘em down real good…"

"I refuse to even take part in this silly conversation, Freida. I’m goin’ to town for coffee."

"Meanwhile Leroy and Salizhan slowly starve to death. It’ll start slowly as the two helpless boys try to squeeze the last little bubble of minced ham onto their tongues. The drop gets loose and they madly paddle through the weightless atmosphere, shoving each other out of the way for the final morsel. The droplet sticks against a control panel and poor Leroy shoves Salizhan out of the way at the last minute, lunges with his tongue for his final meal and crashes headlong into the computer terminal. It’s not a pretty sight, Herb. You’d think a few minutes squeezin’ a toothpaste tube would be worth your time."

"My friends down at the coffee shop ask me how I put up with you, Freida. They tell me, ‘She’s a radical Herb. She votes Democratic while claimin’ to be a Christian, she thinks we should all turn communist and drive fuel-efficient cars, and there’s rumors that she grinds her own coffee and listens to Public Radio!’ Freida, your nuttiness has made me a marked man in this community!"

"Calm your shorts, marked man, and help me crunch these cookies."

"And just how in thunder are you gonna get these things into space?"

"You’re gonna deliver them, Herb. Put your coat on. I hear it gets cold in space."

You ever in Coonridge, stop by. We may not answer the door but you’ll enjoy the trip.