I'd like to relive a moment in my life I would rather not. However, due to time constrains this is the best I got ...
Circa 2005 after a scrumptious Greek Feast filled with soulvaki I found a very familiar craving pulling at my sweet tooth. This impulse was created by the sense memory of a chocolaty, chewy, fresh-baked treat that I have neutered since early childhood. The All-American Chocolate Chip Cookie. A desert perfect in every way. Now the problem a treat coinsure like myself runs into on occasion is the quality of such items. My feelings towards Chocolate Chip Cookies are the same I have toward Computer equipment. You get what you pay for. I have been known to shell out as much as two dollars for one cookie.
On the drive home after making a special trip to an amazing cookie bakery I have all but devoured three of the six cookies I purchased. I'm not sure about the rest of you, but I love the idea of having a sweet treat before I go to bed. My waistline and the women that don't notice me agree it's most likely a habit I need to quit. However, for my money it doesn't get better then a sweet desert kiss before bed.
Flash forward later that night. All of my earthly business has been accomplished for the day. Only one thing left to do ... Salivating at the anticipation of my midnight addiction I stammer to my kitchen. I open the cupboard and find my prize. Ripping into the bag like a child on Christmas morning I don't pause once I feel the cookie in my mitts. The first of my three cookies are all but devoured in seconds. Oh the taste, the wincing sweetness, the unexpected texture. I have missile-lock on cookie number two. One bite, two bites, gone ... And at last the third cookie has moments before its demise.
Contemplating the last savory treat in my hands I become all so aware of a strange sensation enveloping my hands. It isn't the cold. Perhaps it's my arms awakening after being leaned after a couple hours on the computer. No that's not it, because the feeling is strictly isolated to my hand, not my whole arm. After a moment of bewilderment my next course of action is to inspect the mystery feeling in a more lit part of the kitchen�
Walking to the kitchen sink I let my eyes adjust to the bulb illuminating the one part of the kitchen. Like stepping into the spotlight of some macabre one man show I look down to see the source of my distress. As my eyes focus I try to convince myself out of what I'm looking at. Scurrying with mad frenzy, my hand and wrist is covered with black ants. Not just a couple of black ants. What could easy add to about 75 microscopic ants, my hands have turned into a pseudo insect mosh pit.
As I let out a school-girlish whelp I quickly ran my hands under the now flowing water of the sink. After properly evacuating the bastards off my hands, I was left with only one question. Now in retrospect I should have never asked myself this question. Where did these things come from?
As quick as I asked the question I immediately wanted to deny what ultimately would be the truth. I stepped back to the cupboard and looked into the cookie bag with dramatic flair usually reserved for the most clich� of horror movies. Yes kids, the cookie bag had about four hundred black ants. At first I wanted to believe that there might be a chance I could have eaten two sugar infused treats without ingesting any ants, but common sense told me better.
I mostly likely consumed five hundred ants in those first two cookies. How I managed to get them down without noticing their presence still remains a mystery to me. Lesson learned, always look at what you're about to eat. Trust me on this one.
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