The Grandma's Cookies Defense

It's time for me to set the record straight. For too long I have been accused of a heist for which I am not to blame. My good name has been unduly defamed -- nigh unto tarnished -- by the incomplete and wholly inaccurate reconstruction of events that allegedly took place during the spring of 2002.

The setting: My roommate Mark bought a two-pack of Grandma's Cookies. They cost him maybe 80 cents. Unless he got them on sale, which he probably did. I don't know that I've ever seen Mark pay full price for anything. Here's an exchange Mark has probably had at some point in his life with a check-out clerk:

Clerk: T.P. and matches. Okay, that's $2.12.
Mark: Tell you what. I'll give you $1.50.
Clerk: Wha-?
Mark: Look. I should get a deal for buying the T.P. and matches as a set. I'm not going to buy them separately. So you're costing your shift manager $1.50 in lost revenue if you don't take my offer. You think he's going to like that?
Clerk: Maybe. Probably not. Well, no. I guess.
Mark: Listen. I can tell you're a bright guy. You know a good deal when you see one. You can make your corporation $1.50 right now, or you can bring home a big goose egg. It's your choice buddy.
Clerk: Okay. $1.50.
Mark (sliding him the money): Good man.
Clerk (5 hours later as he's walking home after being fired): Crap.

So, Mark bought the cookies. But he didn't eat them. He just set them on the end table in our living room so I could see them every time I walked through the front door.

I did pretty well for several days. I knew they didn't belong to me. But they looked so desolate and lonely just sitting on the table day after day. Grandma's Cookies aren't created to be admired from a distance. They are created to be consumed -- no, to be savored -- nay! to be gobbled. Were they fulfilling the measure of their creation? No. Should anything be forced to endure an existence in which they are not permitted to fulfill that measure? Of course not.

I asked Mark nicely several times to please eat the Grandma's Cookies, or to at the very least remove them from plain view so I was not forced to witness their perpetual misery. He refused, citing busyness and homework as reasons for being unable to comply. Both flimsy reasons. It is an established and well-known fact that it takes less than 90 seconds to hide a Grandma's Cookie, and less than one-third the time to completely grub one.

I began to harbor cumbersome feelings concerning the injustice of the situation. Mark's Grandma's Cookies were oppressed. They wanted to be eaten. Have you ever heard a baby cookie say "I want to sit on a desk and be looked at when I grow up?" No baby cookies say that. All cookies want to grow up and be voraciously ingested. Don't question me. I know what cookies want.

I issued an ultimatum: remove the cookies, or they will be eaten. I had been forced to look upon the luscious shape of rich chocolate chips poking through golden baked cookie dough for too long. Reasonable action had not been taken by the "owner" of said Grandma's Cookies (inasmuch as one who respects not his possessions can in good faith and conscience be called an "owner" of those possessions), in spite of numerous good faith efforts on my part to spur that action. I had no choice. The status quo was untenable. I ate the Grandma's Cookies.

Here are the facts:
1) The cookies sat in plain sight for more than a week.
2) Repeated requests that Mark remove or eat the cookies went unheeded.
3) Grandma's Cookies are baked to perfection so that they may be eaten.
4) Mark did not eat his package of Grandma's Cookies..
5) The Constitution guarantees to citizens of our fine country the right to act against unjust rule (I'm not really sure about this, but it supports my argument, so I'll go with it).
6) A grave injustice was being perpetrated against two innocent Grandma's Cookies.
7) I gave a clear ultimatum stating my intended actions.
8) My warning was scoffed to scorn.
9) I ate the Grandma's Cookies.

Some claim I stole the Grandma's Cookies. I did not. If a man leaves his frisbee in plain view in a public park for 10+ days, is it not clear that man no longer wants his frisbee? Through his neglect of the package of Grandma's Cookies, Mark surrendered all ownership thereof. I am innocent of wrongdoing; on the contrary, I performed a public service, saving not only myself but others from the severe pain of seeing an unsullied package of Grandma's Cookies going uneaten for such an unecessarily long period of time. I did with the cookies that which should be done with all cookies within 48 hours of their date of bake: I freaking inhaled them. And I ain't sorry.