Cookie Monster

Last week, K.G. brought home baked goods to our break room at work, which were devoured in short order by our hustlers.  It got me to thinking of the time I was dosed at work.

A long time ago in a restaurant far, far away, there was a young lady working the takeout counter who would bring in brownies, cookies and other snacks she prepared for her very appreciative co-workers.  Everyone loves a sugar rush, especially servers who are on their feet for hours at a time.  “M” was truly gifted in her kitchen, and we were the lucky recipients of her passion for baking.

One time, M brought in a plate of oatmeal raisin cookies.  Large, chewy medallions of awesomeness that I couldn’t wait to try. Wait, what is that taste? Something familiar but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.  I thanked her for the snack, then walked down the hall towards the manager’s office, thinking she had introduced some new spice to the recipe.

After realizing I couldn’t eat just one, I circled back to the break room and asked M for another cookie.

“Are you sure you want another one?” she asked.  I thought maybe she was concerned for my weight or something, but I should have seen the evil glint in her eyes.

You know the look.


“M, what did you put in here thats different?  I can’t pinpoint what I’m tasting”.

“It’s a secret” she replied, a small smirk flashing across her smile as I jammed the entire cookie into my mouth. I left the break room to return to the dining room floor, brushing crumbs away from my face as I did so.

Not long after, I began to feel a strange euphoria.  I mean, I’m a pretty happy guy anyway, but this was like waking up after a 12-hour deep sleep, feeling like you can now conquer the world. This was accompanied by a light vibration which began to course through my body.  I started to feel like I was floating.


Definitely not unpleasant but what made me realize to my dawning horror what the magic “spice” was in M’s cookies.

Well, not spice, but herb:

“Cannabis (/ˈkænəbɪs/) is a genus of flowering plants that includes three different species, Cannabis sativa, Cannabis indica and Cannabis ruderalis. These species are indigenous to Central and South Asia. Cannabis has long been used for hemp fibre, for seed and seed oils, for medicinal purposes, and as a recreational drug. Industrial hemp products are made from Cannabis plants selected to produce an abundance of fiber. To satisfy the UN Narcotics Convention, some Cannabis strains have been bred to produce minimal levels of tetrahydrocannabinol (THC), the principal psychoactive constituent responsible for the high associated with it and which is obtained through the dried flowers of Cannabis plants selectively bred to produce high levels of THC and other psychoactive cannabinoids. Various extracts including hashish and hash oil are also produced from the plant.”

As I made my way through my shift, goofy smile plastered to my face like an icon, I wasn’t sure whether to be pissed off at M or grateful for the diversion.  Of course, the c.indica, c.sativa and/or c.ruderalis moving through my body wasn’t going to allow anything but peace and harmony for the next few hours. I cranked up the music in the dining room a couple notches.

Of course, the news that Dave Lory had eaten not one but two of M’s cookies raced through the restaurant and I noticed, with some weed-induced paranoia, a knowing smile sent my way every time I passed a team member.

Eventually, I came down from my high and finished the day. Saying goodbye to everyone, I noticed M at the front desk and gave her a quiet “thanks” and a wink. I then whispered to her “don’t ever do that again, k?”.  She smiled sheepishly and I went home and slept.



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