All of a sudden I have a craving for Girl Scout Cookies, I don't know why.
I cannot even remember the last girl-scout I bought them from.
It may have been over six years ago. One year I bought twenty boxes to keep at my desk as emergency rations. Better safe than sorry. What if there was an earthquake? Massive civil unrest? Zombie Apocalypse?
A man has to have a goodly supply of girl-scout cookies; I can trade them for medicine and silk-stockings. Or sell them at a high prices to my desperate co-workers. They'll trade their clean underwear for food.
One has to be prepared for any eventuality, just in case.
I ate them all within a month.
After that, I resolved to not buy Girl Scout Cookies again, no matter how winsome the little salesperson selling them.
The sad thing is that little girls are fully realized people until adolescence, then there's a hiatus of approximately eight to twelve years before they become people again. Between the ages of twelve and twenty, most female persons are dangerously unstable. Rather like the inmates of an asylum.
Or ravenous apocalyptic zombies.
Boys too, but there's a reason no one ever buys Boy Scout Cookies.
We'd worry that the little monsters had sprinkled poison on them.
It would be incredibly disappointing to discover that one's emergency rations were NOT just flour, palm oil, dessicated coconut, chocolate, corn syrup, baking powder, and preservatives, but more complex snacks, sodden with strychnine or anthrax.
My desperate coworkers rely on them for their survival!
Can't trust boys; they've got a wicked tendency.
But girl scouts are a different story.
Girl scouts don't kill.
That month of twenty boxes was a crazy month.
Most of it I was whacked on sugar.
What are those lemony cream things called?
Are they really baked by little girls?
Somehow one tends to doubt.
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