It had been too long.The hands trembled. Beads of sweat popped out on my forehead, my neck. My heart pounded in my chest. Blood pounded in my ears. I tried to focus, but could think of nothing-- nothing but that sweet, sweet bliss.
But where could I find what I needed? Panic seized me.
And then I remembered: Kitty. Of course! My ol' pal Kitty could hook me up. Her niece was connected, wasn't she? Sure! She was a BIG dealer, biggest in her turf... She'd look after me. No problem.
It was Girl Scout cookie season, and I needed my fix.
As a slave to the Samoas, I wonder how many others face a deep, insatiable craving for these cookies out-of-season. And why IS it seasonal? What are they trying to do to us, these pint-sized cookie teases? They introduce their boffo baked goods and then they vanish. Gone for another year.
But the demand is still there, isn't it? The memory? The sugar no longer coursing through our bloodstream, but the desire still alive?
It makes you wonder. Why such a short time? Is it a philosophical statement on the fleeting spirit of beauty? Of life? A derisive move against the principles of supply and demand?
Why don't the Girl Scouts just rent themselves a giant oak tree, set up shop inside it and bake these babies all year round? (Okay, those are elves. But still. ) Why create a false deficit? A manufactured shortage? I mean, they're a character-building organization. They're not OPEC.
Well, I connected with Kitty and let her know what I was looking for. She passed along my message. Weeks passed.
Then I got word that Kitty had a package for me. I slipped through dark corridors toward the meeting place (okay, so it was by the printer at work), and the hand-off was about to be made, when I realized--
I didn't have the cash. Not ON me. Nervously, I explained the situation. But it was too late. The deal had gone sour. Good-bye, Thin Mints. Later, Tagalongs. So long, Samoas. The darkness closed around the retreating figure. The stash was spirited away almost as if it never were.
Almost. The scent of peppermint and coconut lingered in the cool evening air.
Fleeting. So, so fleeting. And it's never easy to get that Thin Mint monkey off your back.
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Mmm, Thin Mints, Peanut Tagalongs, Samoas and Humor-blogs. Nothing like 'em!
3 comments:
The door bell rang 3 days ago, and it was our neighbor with a big cardboard box with 10 Thin mint boxes and 3 Samoa boxes. Sundar had ordered them (behind my back, of course!!), reasoning that the kids would polish them off in under a week. How on earth do they come up with those horribly addicting Thin Mints- I'm sure I can sniff out a conspiracy between the Girl Scouts of America and the American Society of Cardiologists, a secret nexus to promote one to help the other...
Thank you very much for the Blog roll link. I'll be adding Cabbages-n-Kings to my list as well!
Heh, I can absolutely SEE Sundar doing that. I recall when he first discovered the Starving Artist shows and was all excited about buying original artwork. :) Hmm... maybe you're right about the Girl Scout Cookie/Medical Community conspiracy theory... If I suddenly disappear without a trace, you'll know we were onto something.
You're quite welcome for the blog roll link-- and thank you, too! That's really sweet of you.
If they sold them all year round, then you'd have time to work out your addictive issues and wouldn't be interested anymore.
I was sorry not to get any of those peanut butter cookies (I never remember the names), but there's always Nutter-Butters!
Of course, nothing will replace the Thin Mint (altho the alcoholic namesake comes close...).
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