Raisins.
RAISINS.
RAISINS.
The thing of murder mysteries. The assassins of assassins. The essence of evil. The eighth deadly sin – raisins. Shriveled up, all innocent looking. Just little cold looking, rejected, homeless, crumpled grapes, right? You couldn’t be more wrong.
Remember that time you found that great chocolate chip cookie? The perfect, wonderful, delicious balance of chocolate, and cookie? You slid the beautiful thing into your mouth, and took a bite from it’s majestic being, you tasted the perfect dough, you felt the warmth of it’s freshly baked embrace, the sweet, melting chocolate on your tast- wait. Something’s not right here. The dough? That’s fine, perfectly knead. The baking? Baked to perfection. The chocolate? That’s fine, i- STOP! That’s not the melting embrace of the chocolate fairies gently frolicking on your taste buds! That’s… That’s… RAISINS! A DISGRACE TO HUMANKIND! In a hurried attempt to spit them out, a raisin leaps down your throat, choking you, while the other raisins bind your arms, your legs and gag your mouth with their putrid bodies. You feel a *knock* on the head, and slip into the comparatively wonderful embrace of unconsciousness.
You wake up. Phew, all just a dream. Wait. You feel a sharp throbbing on the back of your head. You find yourself tied to a chair. You hear voices. “Congratulations on a successful mission, lieutenant. You may now return to your quarters. I shall deal with the human,” you hear. Then you hear quiet footsteps. Quiet, but powerful. A door behind you slams open. “You may be wondering why you are here. Well, you may first be wondering how you got jumped by raisins. I’m the leader of the pack here, boy. We are a cult. Our assassins our skilled fighters, able to kill the fiercest of fiends in mere seconds. Remember that Jackson boy? Another of your pitiful kind, apparently famous for… walking backwards? Well, we killed him. Just one of our assassins slipped a drop of our special poison into his water. He didn’t see it, he didn’t taste it. Until he couldn’t see, or taste anything for the rest of his pitiful life. Or, I should say, lack thereof. We didn’t really like Thriller. We felt the synchronized dancing was ever so slightly out of sync.”
“So you had to KI-”
“Not another word from you, boy. I have assassins gathered everywhere around this room, able to kill you in an instant. And they don’t even have limbs. I’m the only one around here with limbs. That’s why I’m the leader. Because I have nice arms. Now anyways, back to business. You may be wondering why you’re here. ‘I’m innocent,’ you must be thinking. ‘Why me,’ you must be thinking. Well here’s your answer; you have something that we need. Something that we can use to finally get the Raisins Are Incredible Stabbers – Inhumane and Nefarious cult the power we need!”
“HOORAH,” screamed thousands of voices. You jumped from your chair, only causing it to fall over, as the thousands of startling voices boomed from the darkness.
“Heh. Betcha didn’t see that coming, eh? Well anyways, give it to us.”
“… Give what…?” I asked uncertainly, voice trembling with fear.
“You know what we want.”
“Actually, I re-”
“YOU KNOW WHAT WE WANT.”
“I’m sorry, I-”
“GIVE IT HERE, BOY!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Hah. Nor do I. I’m playing mind games with you. I only abducted you because I got bored, and we haven’t found any out of sync dancers recently. So we decided to leave you a parcel on your doorstep with a free cookie. Now, assassins, bring him to the dungeon. And don’t forget; the cookie on Obama’s doorstep at exactly 8:30 in the morning.”
The judge hit the hammer on his little wooden table. “Enough, enough! Are you sure this is EXACTLY what happened?
“Absolutely!”
“John Williams, you simply don’t seem to be thinking straight! We found no wound, not even a bruise, on the back of your head, we know of no RAISIN cult, and you came to this court claiming that you were abducted by raisins. Now please apologize to this inanimate object and stop wasting my time!”
You stormed out of the court. You flagged down a taxi, any and all thoughts shrouded by your anger at the fact that the judge didn’t believe you. At arriving home, you found a parcel on your doorstep. You opened it up and saw the most beautiful thing you have ever seen.
A great chocolate chip cookie.
So next time you see a cookie, be careful.
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