The Cookie Monster

By Lonnie P. Anderson

Criminal behaviors take place everyday. It is up to us to heal from them. Naturally, physical assault can lead to much depression, anxiety, and durable fiascos. Eternal joy is a promise for all who come to Jesus Christ enlisting his assistance to fill all the holes dug in the wrong places.

The Cookie Monster is a tale about beauty arising from destruction, probably the only notable work of this kind. Lonnie P. Anderson takes you on a journey through forgiveness and overcoming, never giving up on the faith, joy, and hope that are ours for the taking. Workmanship and steady philosophical hope takes place throughout an incandescent and provocative emblem of desire. Love is a reward for those who search for and find the companionship of the Lord Jesus.

Belligerent denial of obstructive cantankerous situations miffs the truth of good opinion and disastrous deceit, where leaning on lies sends you down to the bottom. History depletes natures of soliloquy and pardonable, individual complications of remorse.

Repercussions give grace to interludes of stress and overcoming, where faith complies with nature and becomes spiritually renewed. Antagonism resists our efforts to destroy evil, yet we can resist those most ignoble forces of destruction patterned after lost or suicidal redemption.

Cookies were made for cookie monsters and cookie kings. Let this elaborate epic saga grace you in learning about the “baker”, our Father in Heaven and the cookie monster whose attributes refine and conclude with victory. Baskets of cookies roam our world today. See first hand what a cookie monster can do.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9798369411612

Book preview

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Cookies In My Craw

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Gloating at her sister, the little girl ran down the hall that led to the back door, the deck, the stairs and the alley by the side of the house. Fibi, her name, gracefully took off her shirt and rubbed her belly. She patted her flat nipples, and poked her finger in her belly button. She sat down on the ground and drew circles with her fingers in the dirt.

The garbage cans, nearby, exuded a rank odor and buzzed with flies going in and out of the slightly open lid on one of them. Across the parking spot where she sat in the back alley was a pile of bunched branches neatly stacked and tied from the recent pruning of the fruit trees.

The back yard, inside the gated fence sprouted with green grass and various flowers as well as a vegetable garden. The summer air was warm and beautiful, wafting up from the ground as it reflected heat back to the sun.

Fibi puttered around on the cement, playing with rocks and sticks she had found that represented animals and whips. She knew the whip very well, her daddy’s belt had many times graced her body with chastening. She wasn’t a particularly naughty girl, but she was fast and curious and made mistakes and bumped into things as the racing cars in her mind flew around the kitchen.

Now she was content. Her sister, Carla, was prettier than she was and she knew it. They both knew it. Carla stayed out of trouble and seldom was whipped with daddy’s belt. Always in her hair, Fibi craved time to be alone to ponder and think about the many things that bothered her. They were young and one year apart in age. At this point Fibi was four going on five, and Carla came in crying at age three, nearly four. Everything was unfair for Carla, and Fibi always seemed to get the good things in their childlike lives.

Today was particularly atrocious in that Carla had gotten away eating a chocolate bar from the pantry while Fibi got caught eating a chocolate chip cookie from the cookie tin in there. She cried, she smirked, she stuffed the whole cookie in her mouth and ran away gloating at her slim victory. Mother was too busy to chase her, and Daddy was away.

It was then, shirtless, and basking in the dusty sunshine of the back alley parking spot that she heard music playing from a neighbor’s house. It was a song she loved and she sang along quietly within herself.

She longed to watch TV and play games on the computer in the living room. Those activities were naturally assigned to evening hours only, leaving the daytime to be filled with creative ideas.

Fibi also had two brothers, eight and nine, whose names were Peter and Paul. They tended to treat their sisters well, and looked out for the little ones, warding off dangerous situations and making sure they were safe. A cookie theft, like Fibi had performed today was treated with contempt, but permitted without tattle tailing. In fact, Peter and Paul followed in suit and ate treats from the pantry during the hours of the day that screamed for more energy. Sugar, sugar, sugar! Little Carla ate her chocolate bar, in her bedroom. She savored the sweet and delicious tidbit but she was not happy.

Usually gaining the upper hand when it came to disciplining the children, her wrongs were not noticed, as she was sneaky and sure of herself.

But she was sad. She was depressed and nobody knew why. She envied her sister who was not as pretty as she was, yet who always got in trouble for the slightest transgressions.

Taken for granted, she had no special character traits, and she often fought with Fibi over who could do the most aggressive acts without hurting anyone or even upsetting the home environment.

Mom found Fibi often underfoot and a constant presence in the kitchen with her. Mom’s quiet time was respected during the day when she went into her office and did work to help Dad. The girls didn’t paint the walls with crayons, but they lusted after computer games, card games, and loud music.

Mom permitted these activities during the daytime but did little to enforce her rules of no computers except in the evenings. Mostly the girls observed these rules anyway, and chastised each other by name calling and threats to tell on each other.

There were times when they were friendly, and unduly loved one another, fighting only as sisters would carry on. Neither one had of yet drawn blood, but they pushed each other down and wrestled with one another on the floor in the living area, and out on the green grass in the yard. Usually they would chase each other with intent to inflict pain, but stopped when the pain got too real or unbearable.

Today was Fibi’s turn for victory, having eaten the cookie as swiftly as she could and escaped before Mom could counsel her on the duty. Mom gave the girls cookies and milk most afternoons. Fibi wasn’t satisfied until she was satisfied, and ate the cookie she stole with relish and total enjoyment.

Somehow, Fibi’s victory sat ill with Carla’s chocolate bar conquest. She felt no bravery or winning in her situation for she had done it with no danger of Mom’s catching her. So she ate her chocolate bar slowly and sat on the floor in her room listening to music and preparing to read, one activity that was highly encouraged in their household. They were the family Hardingston, with Mom, Dad, Peter, Paul, Fibi, and little Carla. Two cats roamed the halls and bedrooms, using the kitchen as a resting place on the table and the island counter top.

The cats were named Ginger and Bianca. They seldom fought, but played together, and sought human attention or spontaneous licking from each other and themselves.

The cookie monster was about to step into the halls of dormant memories when he sidled up to Fibi that day as she played on the ground with sticks and rocks, shirtless and bare foot. There he came, the neighbor boy from down the street, mincing steps to the object of his desire, it was Jeffrey, the older of two young boys in the tall house at the end of the block.

To his delight, he saw the girl, Fibi, topless and alone so he approached carefully. She saw that in his hand he held a cookie, and there were crumbs all over his adorable face. He didn’t say anything but walked up to her and proffered the cookie he held in his hand. Eat? he said to her. She ate, not at all self conscious that he was looking at her bare chest. Jeffrey stayed a few minutes, not talking, but staring enchanted at his prize momentary possession. Kiss? he said to her. She was not sure what to do, but remained where she was as he leaned in to kiss her little cookie filled mouth. It was a seal of ownership. This one was his, he thought, and admired the Fibi, strong and beautiful who sat upon his little boy presence. She reached out to touch his face covered with crumbs, and he kissed her little hand, taking it in his, and smiling sweetly.

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Brilliant Disguise

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The two sat there holding hands and smiling into each other’s eyes. Jeffrey was enamored with his prize possession and talked to her with little words. He knew the Hardingston family that lived up the street from him and his brother and dad. He knew about Fibi and Carla whom he admired with a guilt complex, unable to separate himself from a future without them. Fibi was most to his liking, she was daring and played well. This kiss had turned around things to his gracious delight, and he portrayed himself as a ghost of Christmas past.

Bubbling over with joy, the boy laughed and talked with Fibi, who put her shirt on in countenance of joy and protection. She had noticed her chest being observed with a particular passion of grace and fluidity. Not often would Jeffrey see his girlfriend undressed to his ardor. He complicated the matter by removing his own shirt and wrapping his little arms around this girl that he claimed. The cookie was eaten and he had shared it gracefully. Oatmeal raisin. There were crumbs all over his mouth that sought to kiss her again. He held her two hands in his own and lifted her up to stand. Then he was to lead her away to the front of the house and down to his own, but she balked. She knew that Peter and Paul wouldn’t approve, but he didn’t care. His heavenly catch was worth the danger of involvement with her brothers.

And then it happened. Peter saw the two of them together making way down the street. He whistled and called in a threatening voice. Fibi kissed her cookie monster again in plain sight, before letting go of him and obediently running back to their yard. She turned around and looked at him again, but he was out of sight. She thrilled at the ecstatic feelings within her. She knew her brother was angry and didn’t approve of seeing the two children together. Especially holding hands. And then the kiss. Peter was incensed and fuming when he got his hands on his little sister.

Don’t you know who that is, what kind of people they are? You are not to associate with Jeffrey or his brother anytime anywhere. They are low class scum, he said, pouring salt all over the sweet afternoon.

Disguised as a child, Jeffrey knew how to be a man at a young age. His father often beat them, he and his brother Joseph. Their house was dark and weather beaten, a huge maple tree out front that dropped massive amounts of leaves every fall. Fibi’s Mom, Julie, did not permit her children to trick or treat at their house on Halloween. They were a sordid bunch, but held respect and honor for their own family.

They took pride in their family name, the Whippets. The Whippets had moved in about three years ago and were despised by most of the Hardingston’s. Fibi was different, however and liked to live dangerously. There was something erotic and so cool about the Whippet family, with dark secrets and no Mom.

Jeffrey cried softly that night and thought back on his Fibi. So cute and innocent without her shirt on. Munching on his cookie, and kissing him with crumbs all over his face. Fibi took her punishment and was sworn to stay away from any of the Whippets, or their pets. They had a German Shepherd who barked constantly in the mornings and then was quiet all day.

The Hardingston’s, also, had a dog, Cerberus, a mangy mix of pit bull and black Labrador. Cerberus was vicious to strangers coming in the yard, especially the mail man who had pepper sprayed him twice. Cerberus barked in a loud and menacing voice, angry at the world, and angry at all pedestrians who walked past the fenced in yard. He was gentle with the family, and made a wonderful pet except for his aggressive tendencies toward strange visitors.

That day, Jeffrey sat at home, eating cookies and mooning over his triumphant conquest with Fibi, whom he called his girlfriend to Joseph, his dad, and their Uncle William who visited often and talked guns with the Whippets.

Fibi scowled at her brother Peter, who had broken up her reverie with Jeffrey from down the street. Peter and Paul had drawn the line with the Whippet boys and adamantly banned them from entering their yard, threatening to fight, and not wanting any Whippet blood on the lawn. Cerberus, also, barked madly at the strangers. The next day, however, the cookie monster returned, this time walking into the front yard in search of his Fibi. Cerberus, somehow, remained quiet and ran up and sniffed the gentleman boy, licking his hand. This was quite unusual for the violent dog, and he allowed Jeffrey to walk around the side into the backyard.

There to his heart’s delight, was Fibi and Carla playing with their horse models in the grass. It was an elaborate game of horse back riding with Barbie dolls and saddles and bridles. They raced through the grass, and claimed ownership to their own respective ranches.

Jeffrey cleared his throat and the two girls looked up, one in fright and one in delight. He didn’t know what to do, and broke up the game by sitting down in their presence and observing.

Carla was wide eyed and afraid of this boy whom their brothers admonished and warned against. Fibi looked up and smiled into Jeffrey’s eyes that were warm and inviting. I can’t play, he said, and that he must go before trouble started. Fibi jumped up from her playing and ran to him. She put her little arms around his neck and nestled her face into his chin. Jeffrey escalated into a state of love and compassion, breathing deeply of her scent and softly stroking her hair. They were young for this show of outright affection.

Jeffrey let go and said he must leave quickly. Cerberus stuck his nose under the boy’s arm and lifted it with his big head. He was quiet and peaceful, at ease with this human being.

Fibi cried that he must leave, yet understood and walked around to the front yard with him, letting him out the front gate. They waved goodbye and the little boy disguised as a prince walked away to his home at the end of the block. His brother Joseph met him in the doorway when he arrived home. Together they laughed and joshed at the Hardingston boys, who stood between them and the Hardingston girls. They cherished this short victory.

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Christmas Kisses

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Fibi saw no more of Jeffrey that summer, in fact the Whippets had left the house on thirty seventh street to go stay with Uncle William for a couple of months. School started again in the fall, and the girls walked to and from that red brick building covered with ivy, an elementary school filled with all sorts of boys and girls.

Jeffrey and Joseph did not attend, nor were they ever at home when the girls walked past. Their house looked to be haunted with ghosts, with dark windows and a mangy unkempt yard out front. The backyard was dark and menacing, with piles of grass and leaves left unattended. They did not venture past that gated enclosure and walked a little faster as they passed by.

Thanksgiving came and went and still no Whippets. Then, in early December, the neighboring family returned to thirty seventh street. Fibi was secretly ecstatic and whispered prayers in the air about everything she could think of that she was thankful for. She counted her blessings, including the peace that had lasted now between her and Carla since Jeffrey’s last visit in the back yard. Carla knew how her sister treasured the Whippet boy and sympathized with her loss and their estrangement.

Indeed, Jeffrey was her prince.

Christmas came and the girls and Mom made tons of Christmas cookies that they shared and ate happily. Fibi took it into her head to bring a plate of cookies to the Whippets. She arrayed a paper plate with the best of the decorated cookies, and the most delicious ranger cookies. She snuck through the living room and out the front door with her bootie. Cerberus whined and followed her to the gate, which she opened and went through leaving the dog whining behind. The wind was cold and light rain was falling. Darkness settled in. Fibi trained her mind on one thing, that was getting from her house to the Whippet house without dropping any of her precious cookies. She had put a little red bow over the plate. This was a Christmas gift. A surprise. Then she smiled and skipped a step.

Upon reaching her destination, she walked boldly up the front porch and knocked on the door and waited. Only minutes went by before someone came to open the door. It was their dad. She knew not his name, but introduced herself as Fibi Hardingston from just up the street . She had cookies she said, to give to their family from their own kitchen. Christmas cookies, she said, and not much else. She poked her head in the door and looked around. There was a Christmas tree trimmed delightfully. Where was Jeffrey?

The dad, who introduced himself as Karl, took the tray of cookies from her with much elaborate thanksgiving. Where is Jeffrey? she asked him scarcely holding her breath. And then there he was. Standing behind Karl, he looked at her with those soft and serious eyes, inviting her to come in. She wanted to, but didn’t. She was in enough trouble already, if not being found inside the Whippet house. She thanked them and said Merry Christmas, and stared lovingly at her prince. She waited, silently, awkwardly, not knowing what else to say. Spontaneously she pushed past Karl and ran to wrap her arms around Jeffrey who stood there inhaling her presence. He kissed her cheek and held her tightly. Little girl that she was, the exchange of affection was innocent and pure.

She looked past and saw Joseph playing in the living room. She quietly took her leave and said good bye, and hope you enjoy those cookies. Karl was polite and gentle, watching her walk away. Somehow he needed to understand the situation differently. He didn’t know about Jeffrey’s taking to Fibi. He knew, though, she was a special little girl.

Other than this there was no communication between the two families as the years went by, and no one sought each other out. Peter had found out about the cookie gift and admonished Fibi with harsh integrity and mean alliance with her small, beating heart. Very carefully, she passed by the house daily going to and from school with her sister. Somehow they never ran into each other, and neither of the two Whippet boys attended the elementary school just blocks away.

Fibi mourned carefully for her lost prince, and made up scenarios in her head where they played in heaven and floated on fluffy white clouds.

To her the Whippets were an endangered species, their honor and total regard and respect for their own family name keeping time with regard to their nature of fallen reprisal. Yet Peter and Paul were adamantly against any communication with that sordid bunch of villains. Once or twice she heard shouting emanating from the Whippets’ house as she walked home from school. No one ever saw anyone, though, and she knew not what it was like behind those quiet and darkened walls.

That Christmas kiss was all she would know for years after the family moved away and disappeared from the reality of her days. Why had the Whippets moved away? Where was her prince? Gradually the memories faded and years went by, no contact made by Jeffrey anymore.

Peter and Paul were satisfied that the dark presence was gone from down the street. They were good boys and didn’t get into any trouble at all. Blinded by their own self confidence, they missed out on the sharing of love between others other than themselves and one or two chosen friends who frequented the house throughout destiny. Elaborate invitations were made to certain girls from middle school who fit in and didn’t have any consequential demeanor. Fibi and Carla had their own friends who came over and they played together. Yet Fibi’s wounded soul never overcame the loss of her prince, whom she had never had and known for more of her life than less.

Time went by and she forgot the Christmas kiss, the ghost of Christmas past, and the family that used to live down the street. Christmases came and went each year, and Fibi retained her indifference toward her brothers and their strange popularity.

She was angry and didn’t know why. Carla knew, but never said anything. Their house was relatively quiet, and the fighting between sisters carried on retroactively. Careful to get what they wanted, the girls never told on each other anymore, and winced when the other got into trouble ensuing with dad’s belt.

Dad’s belt stopped punishing them after the eighth grade. At that time punishment turned into house arrest and no allowance, plus added chores. Integrity filled their minds and they worked to achieve good grades. Scoring high on aptitude tests, the girls were taken very proud of, by their beaming parents. Peter and Paul were not quite so clean with their grades and did get into trouble with drugs and alcohol.

Many years had past before Jeffrey and Fibi met again. At that point she didn’t recognize him for who he was. He was tall and lanky, wearing a black leather jacket. She saw him at the high school where she went to take her advanced Spanish class, a step out from middle school. The Christmas kiss impacted nothing. No one said a word. No one remembered, and no one hung onto it. There was a break, and no one made noise about it.

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Possession

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Bianca and Ginger lived many years in the Hardingston house. Peter and Paul were soon enough passed into high school. They went to school dances and school drinking parties. They smoked marijuana, and Peter packed it around in his schoolbag. One day Mom found it while putting Peter’s lunch into his bag. There were loud noises that day and Fibi ran to the living room with her hands on her ears, unable to bear the loud collision of voices emanating from the kitchen. Paul never got into that sort of trouble. He was a good boy and deeply into his girl friends of sorts.

Adequate as they were, the boys were in high school, as juniors, and unbeknownst to them, both Joseph and Jeffrey were in school as juniors also. Peter and Paul did not recognize the grown Whippet boys who were in their class. The only outstanding condition was that the boys didn’t get along and stayed out of each other’s way. The Whippets now lived across town, far from thirty seventh street. Fibi whimpered sometimes when she passed the house on her way home from school. An old man had moved in who seemed to mind his own business. The girls collected old stacks of newspapers from him as well as other neighbors for the school newspaper drive project. Other than that they had no contact with the man, whose name was John.

Life at home was healthy and stable, for the growing girls and their brothers. Peter came home one day with a black eye, having gotten into a brawl at school. His opponents? Joseph and Jeffrey Whippet, who were fighting over possession of a girl in their class. Joseph kept mostly to himself, but Jeffrey was demonstrative and angry in the matter. He despised Peter and knew who he was. Peter didn’t remember his childhood demon from down the street. All he knew was that this young man was trying to steal his girl. Unbeknownst to him was that this girl liked Jeffrey even more. Priscilla was special in that she could choose whom she wanted and she chose Jeffrey. So Peter was bitter and reprimanded himself carefully staying out of Jeffrey’s way, who had won the competition and threatened more than a black eye if he were ever to interfere again with his relationship to pretty Priscilla.

Jeffrey had already a bitter taste in his mouth, well aware of who Peter was, one of those abhorrent Hardingston boys. They were outclassed and spoiled, as far as he was concerned. Fibi never recognized him either when she saw him in the high school that she visited for one class during the semesters. Flying high in the eighth grade, she was a star athlete on the swim team. Her body strong and lithe, she had well conditioned muscles, also from having walked to and from school every day up that steep hill. She pushed herself and walked even faster when she was tired. Subliminally she thought of Jeffrey, but only in ancient thoughts of childhood.

Kids at school were beginning to talk about that hot subject of "sex" and what it was and what it meant.