This is a response to the January 27, 2025 Muse on Monday writing prompt.

Cookipocalypse

Dude, there’s only one cookie left, Grant texted me.

No. No no no no no. These weren’t just any cookies, these were Brenda’s chocolate chip supreme cookies. They weighed half a pound each and she only made them a few times a year. I’d been stuck in meetings all morning and hadn’t been about to sneak out and get one.

I left my office and was poised to sprint to the breakroom when I spotted Harry coming down the hall from the other direction. Harry was my boss and while he was a good guy, he loved cookies, especially Brenda’s chocolate chip supreme cookies. If he ended up in the breakroom, I’d have to offer it to him since he was the boss. He’d make a show of not being sure, then happily take it and devour it in front of me. It had happened before.

“Hey, Harry,” I said.

“Hey,” he said, barely slowing. He was locked in on the cookie, I realized.

“Hey, listen,” I said. “Can I talk to you?”

He stopped and faced me. “Sure, what’s up?”

Nothing was up except my chances of losing the last cookie if I didn’t get in there.

“Did you see the email I just sent?” I asked. “About the report?”

“Uh, not yet. I’ll take care of it when I get back.”

When you get back from stealing my cookie, you monster! I mentally raged at him. Somehow I had to get him to stay but not keep me tied up at the same time.

Just then my phone rang. A flicker of triumph flashed across Harry’s face until it was replaced with professional concern.

“You’d better get that,” he said, then turned and strode towards the breakroom.

I slumped to the desk. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Grant said on the other end.

“It’s no good,” I said. “The end has come. Harry got the cookie. Life has lost its sweetness. The long dark night has arrived.”

“Dude, get over yourself,” Grant said. “I was just calling to tell you to come get the cookie I snagged for you.”

“Oh,” I said. “Great! Long dark night canceled.”