Those crunches were the roaches, all right. The roaches being eaten. The gingerbread predators...how was I to know that the roaches were a gingerbread delicacy?
I don't know what to do anymore! The fiendish little things: they've burned all my CDs. They were playing frisbee with my good old antique LPs. My bed is constantly full of crumbs, and the TV will only pick up The Food Network. (Seems the cookies like Alton Brown, too.) The bathroom is filled with dirty towels (they all have cookie goo on them) and the cops keep calling.
Worse than that, they're starting to get sneakier. No more foolish frontal assaults. There was a bomb attached to my car this morning. I started the engine, then realised that I had left my wallet on the nightstand. I returned to the house, heading for the front door to perhaps confuse them a little bit. I braved the sugar-candy barbed wire, managed to get through the Pez pillboxes, got to the front porch, and there was a massive "Fwump" sound behind me. I turned around in time to see my car get engulfed in a huge cotton candy explosion. There was pink, stringy spun sugar everywhere. The car was completely buried. I sat there and wept.
The cookies made one more determined assault as I sat there in my desperation, but with a strength born of sheer madness I waded into their little brown bodies with screams and kicks, thrashing and frothing and lashing out on all sides. They finally retreated when I reached into their midst and grabbed one of their generals and bit his head off right in front of them. I think that finally made them realise I mean business.
Now if only the exterminator will show up. Stinking coward roaches. They abandoned the field, and are making an assault on the neighbor's houses now. Serves them right for doubting me!
Today's colour: pink
Today's scent: circus smell
Today's word: spun sugar
Today's music: The theme from The Godfather
Today's goal: find the car
Today's war cry: Destroy all cookies!