That's the Way the Cookie Crumbles

Ron lifted the Oreo Cookie up to the household god Nabisco.  He knew that it was his best chance to win the heart of Ann-Jemima, the one woman in all of Wal-Mart Proper who had captured his heart of hearts. 

“O thou great and creamy Nabisco, god of love and all things sweet:  please capture for me the heart of Ann-Jemima,” Ron said prayerfully.

Suddenly the Oreo crumbled into a million pieces without any cream filling to be seen anywhere.  Was this an omen of goodness?  Had he captured the god’s divine favor?

Ron looked and saw a shadow move across the wall. 

“What in the name of beta-carotene?”

Moving across the wall was a rather reddish looking Tribble.  Now Ron was clearly confused.  The missing cream from the Oreo portended something good and foreshadowed the coming of good fortune.  But this Tribble?  What was the significance of the Tribble? 

“Gotcha,” grunted Ron as he grabbed the Tribble.  He moved the Tribble around in his hands uncertain what to do with it, or what he was actually looking for?   Then he saw something on seeming importance.  In the fur of the Tribble it appeared to clearly say with white fur against the red: “Keep Calm and Live Long and Prosper!”

Ron let out a whoop of adulation.  “Praise Nabisco!”

Surely the god had looked down on Ron with extreme and bountiful favor.  Now Ann-Jemima would surely feel the same about him as he did for her.

Ron punched in Ann-Jemina’s number on his cell phone.  Voicemail!  Ron started to grow perturbed and vexed within himself.  Seriously, he thought to himself, does no one answer their cell phone anymore?  He had a thought.  “Guess I’ll just send her a text then,” he whispered to himself.

Within a few minutes his cell phone vibrated.  He looked at his cell phone.  His cell phone’s screen read: “Message failed to send.”

He was about to press resend when the doorbell rang.  Ron ran to the door and opened it.

Two men dressed in white shirts and black ties were standing outside his door.

“Hello kind sir,” began one of the two men.  “We represent the Cult of the Flying Spaghetti Monster.  We would love to discuss the virtues of becoming the willful servants of the Flying Spaghetti Monster.  Please, allow us to demonstrate the mutual benefits of becoming the meatball."

Ron slammed the door in their face as he muttered, “I don’t have time for this crap.”

Once more he tried to press resend text but now his landline started to ring. 

“Hello,” Ron answered as he picked up the receiver.

“Excuse me, sir, but have you ever considered pre-need funeral services?”

“No,” Ron bellowed as he slammed down the phone.

Finally he was able to press resend text.  BINGO!

Ann-Jemima held the ceremonial Tampon over Ron’s head as Ron grasped her arm with his hand.  Since time in memoriam this had been the way in which two lovers would manifest their mutual affection towards each other.   The ceremonial Tampon was the symbol of granting the male the key to the female’s femininity and sexuality.  By grasping the arm the male was pantomiming his uniting and bonding himself to the female.

“Only one thing is needed to complete the ceremony,” said Ann-Jemima with resolution.

 “Yes, my radiant Skittle?”

“We need the ceremonial syrup,” she said dreamily.

“But my fair Skittle, where will I find this ceremonial syrup?”

“In the breakfast aisle.  Aisle number four, sir.”

Ron blinked.  And then said slowly, “Excuse me?”

“Sir, you’ll find syrup in aisle number four.”

“Umm…I don’t need any syrup.”

“Well what do you need?  Maybe I can help you find it.”

Ron looked around he was at the Wal-Mart Superstore.  What had he come to Wal-Mart for?  He opened his right hand and saw a crumpled piece of paper.  He unfolded the paper carefully.  It read: “Don’t forget to pick up the new Ann-Jemima CD “SHOUTING PANCAKES!!!”

“Doh!”

“I’m sorry sir, did you need help finding cookie dough,” asked a bewildered Wal-Mart Clerk.

“No, I need to find the Music section.”

“Oh, that’s over in aisle seven next to the video games.”

“Th-thanks,” said Ron as he rushed over to aisle seven. 

As he reached Aisle seven he opened his other hand and noticed a bottle of pills.  "That’s it no more of these stupid Dream Maker Pills," Ron muttered to himself.   He tossed the bottle of pills on the floor and then went to look for the SHOUTING PANCAKES CD.