Disclaimer: I dont own anything
A/N: This was for english class!! Can you believe it? English class! I got a 98. Hurray!
Ahh, the Power of Cookie Dough
Several cookies fell onto the floor as a sudden pounding shook the room. Startled by the loud sound, Folden almost burnt himself on the open oven door. He shut the door quickly and inspected the back of his hand for injury. Deciding he would rather be safe than sorry, Folden held his hand under the faucet and turned on cold water. A second round of pounding prompted him to dry his hand. Folden walked out of the kitchen and over to the door. Looking through the eyehole, he saw Merry, the half-time pimp/door boy stood outside with one of his prostitutes, Shiny. Folden felt nervous because of their arrival. What did they want? Folden wiped his clammy hands on his apron. He had met Merry on his most recent trip to his favorite store, "Bake Everything". Slightly flustered by the large amount of heavy bags he was carrying, Folden agreed with Merry to meet Shiny at his hotel suit. When she arrived, Folden was feeling very depressed. The airport had just phoned saying, due to a slight accident, they smashed his clavichord while shipping. They told him to expect the splinters the next day in the mail.
In addition, Folden had just burnt a batch of his favorite cookies. They lay on the counter like a cold pile of coal. Folden had insisted on not cooking for Shiny, so he paid her five pounds of dough, hoping she would leave. However, Shiny had other ideas. Upon seeing the large piles of dough in the kitchen, she raised the price to ten pounds. Folden refused to pay the extra.
"So long, crumb-bum," she said after giving up and taking the cookie dough. She left.
Now, they were standing outside Folden's hotel door. Folden ran back into the kitchen. He pulled off his big white baker's hat and oven mitts, and shoved them into the nearest drawer. Next, he scooped his freshly baked, neatly arranged chocolate chip, almond cookies into a container and slid them under the bed. Finally, and most importantly, Folden hid his dough. He stacked his volumes upon volumes of recipe books around the huge pile on the counter. A third round of pounding sounded. Folden rushed out of the kitchen. On his way to the door, he tripped on the box containing his broken clavichord. Folden reached the door and pulled it open. He was immediately clunked on the head by Merry, who had realized a second too late that Folden's head suddenly replaced the door.
"What's the matter? Wuddaya want?" Folden said, rubbing his head.
"Nothin' much... Just five pounds of dough," Merry replied.
"I paid her already. I gave her five pounds. Ask her," Folden's voice began to shake.
"Its ten pounds chief, I tole ya that. Ten pounds for a through, fifteen pounds till noon. I tole ya that," Merry said.
"You did not tell me that. You said five pounds a throw. You said fifteen pounds till noon, all right, but I distinctly head you-"
"Open up, chief," Merry interrupted.
"What for?" Folden wiped his hands again.
Merry and Shiny pushed past Folden into the suit. He tripped backwards and landed on his splintered clavichord, smashing the box. Merry and Shiny ignored Folden and walked straight to the kitchen. Folden stood up and rushed after them. When he entered, Merry and Shiny were sitting at the table waiting for his arrival.
"All right, chief, let's have it. I gotta get back to work," Merry took a very nasty, crumby, store bought cookie out of his pocket.
"Why should I give her another five pounds?" Folden argued. "You gona force feed me?"
"Nobody's tryna force feed nobody," Merry said, tossing the cookie up in the air and catching it. "Let's have it, chief."
"No."
Shiny stood up and began to look around the kitchen.
"Chief, you're gonna force me inna roughin' ya up a little bit. I don't wanna do it, but that's the way it looks. You owe us five pounds," Merry said.
"I don't owe you five pounds... Leave me alone. If you'd said ten, it'd be different. But you distinctly-"
"Are you gonna let us have it?" Merry interrupted again.
"Leave me alone," Folden folded his arms.
"Hey, Merry, want me to get his dough?" Shiny had looked behind the books. "It's right behind the wutchamacallits."
"Yeah, get it."
"Leave my dough alone! Wash your hands!" Folden yelled from where he stood. He did not dare move with Merry in the way.
"I awreddy go it," Shiny said. She squished the dough in her hands so it oozed out between her fingers. "See?" she said pulling one hand off and licking it. "All I'm taking is the five you owe me. I'm no crook."
Folden had had enough. He leaned against the wall and began to cry. He covered his hand with his face, humiliated. "No, you're no crooks," he said. "You're just stealing five-"
"Shut up," Merry shoved Folden.
"Leave him alone, hey," Shiny said. "C'mon, hey. We got the dough he owes us. Let's go. C'mon, hey."
"I'm comin'," Merry said, but he did not move.
"I mean it, Merry, hey. Leave him alone."
Merry kept looking at Folden. "Who's hurtin' anybody?" He reached out and forced the cookie into Folden's mouth.
"You're a dirty moron," Folden spit out the cookie and let it fall to the floor.
"What's that? What am I?" Merry put his face right up to Folden's.
"You're a dirty moron," Folden repeated. "You're a stupid force feeding moron, and in about two years you'll be one of those scraggy guys that bake stupid cookies with phony little icing decorations on the front that taste like-"
Folden was cut off by a solid punch in the stomach. He crumbled to the ground as Merry and Shiny left the suit.
Folden stayed on the floor, trying to catch his breath. He wined a little, although nobody could hear him. After a few minuets, Folden decided to move. He dug his fingers into the rug and pulled, feeling too lazy to move anything from his waist down. Slower than a slug, Folden reached the bed. He stretched underneath it, and pulled out the freshly baked cookies he had hidden because of Merry and Shiny's arrival. Folden opened the container and lifted out a cookie. It was still warm. Folden took a bite and let the chocolate milt in his mouth. Got milk?