Longtime readers will recall that my Rocky Raccoon experience was somewhat marred by Kynan and Laura’s refusal to give me one of their 200,000 Oreos, despite the fact that I hadn’t eaten in a day and a half and even though their parents were making pies for them at the time in their E-Z Bake Camp Oven.
I took the high road in the sordid affair, only tripping Laura once as she headed into the fourth loop, eventually forcing her to DQ. You would think that wrapping up the race 20 miles early might have meant an Oreo or two would be left over. But nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.
Fast-forward: A solid month of Oreo taunts. Not a hint of remorse.
A package arrives. In it, a SOCK MONKEY WITH A BOTTLE OF WINE! That in itself is a party. And a cinnamon pine cone (you probably had to be there).
But best of all, enclosed was a HUGE package of Oreos. My faith in humanity was restored.
We opened the box while having lunch at the Subway, and I was aglow with the prospect of a delicious cookie as dessert. These people are OK after all, even if they’re weirdo Californians.
I opened the package up, and …
It was full of Newtons. NEWTONS!!!!!! N E W T O Ns!!!!!!!!!!! Fig or fruity or tiger balm flavor. It was hard to tell through the flood of tears.
Somewhere the Matzes were cackling with glee, cheeks stuffed full of Oreos like rabid squirrels on crutches.
The moral? The Flying Matzes are just mean. Maybe I already mentioned that.
Oh, well. The sock monkey and I have a bottle of wine to attend to …