Young Writers Society

Cookie monster looked over his desk where he had his feet propped. Across from him sat Goku, Sailor Venus, and a very large cookie:

chocolate. chip.

"Big hair and girl may go. Me want have word with Mr. Cookie."

"I swear the girl was burnt when I got there! And I found the money! A cookie like me ain't lookin for no trouble."

"Please, this is not about any of that," Cookie monster leaned over and picked a snikerdoodle from his desk drawer. "NOMNOMNOM," he roared as he devoured it. Cookie monster knew how to make a cookie scared.

See, I believe we can be of use to each other, cookie, I have a mission for you," Cookie Monster grabbed a file and slammed it onto the desk.

'And what's that?" the cookie began to crumb, his chips melting slightly with every second that went by.

"Simple, kill the Australian."

Meanwhile, the Australian was throwing shrimps at Barbies. The dolls, not the cooking appliances.

The Australian turned around suddenly for no reason. There was no one there.

Then the Australian turned around again and this time there was someone there.

It was a giant cookie wielding a knife. How about that, the Australian thought.

"You call that a knife?" the Australian asked out loud. "This is a knife!" the Australian added as the Australian pulled a shrimp from the Australian's belt. The cookie looked confused until the Australian pulled the shrimp's head off to reveal a blade.

"This is also a knife," the cookie explained. "You see, the same object can be possessed by more than one person, as long as it is only the same type of object and not literally the same object."
"That sounds perfectly reasonable," the Australian admitted as the Australian scratched the Australian's head.

Did I mention the Australian held a grudge against pronouns? A pronoun had murdered the Australian's parents when the Australian was young and now the Australian was on a quest to avenge the Australian's parents.

While the Australian was reminiscing on this, the cookie concentrated very hard and managed to explode the Australian using only the power of its mind.

"That was simple," the cookie muttered.

Cookie Monster picked up his phone and pressed lots of buttons. The phone rang and rang, and the person who answered was not Cookie. It was Lindsay Lohan's agent, who said she was in rehab. Cookie Monster wished her well and hung up the phone and pressed more numbers. This went on for a few hours until he finally got the answer he wanted.

"The Australian is dead."

"Me told you job easy. Me always right."

"Now you're going to let my Italian lover go, aren't you?"

"Me consider it. Me deny it."

"But I finished your job!"

"NOMNOMNOM. That peanut butter cookie. Cookie get picture?"

"...you're a monster!"

"Me boss. You find old friend for Cookie Monster. Me reconsider Italian."

"...who do I have to find?"

"Her name Hut. JabberHut."

Sherry Biccardi waltzed into the office and plopped down on Cookie Monster's lap. "Hey, baby, is the old man gone?"

"Yes," said the hairy blue beast, googly eyes shaking. "Me just sent him on goose wild chase."

They both laugh. "And the best part is, the cookie thinks I still love him," said Sherry, hugging Cookie Monster." She pressed a cookie into his lips.

"Yum, yum... you nice lady. We now all alone."

"What about me?" asked Jim from the corner.

"Did me tell you to talk?!?"

"This is a load of Kentucky fried chicken, you know that?"

"Me know that. Me no care. Go, or Oreo gets it." Cookie could hear the sound of plastic ruffling through the phone, he couldn't let it happen.

"Alright, I'll do it...but can you just tell me one thing? Please?"

"Me consider. Me say ask."

"Is she okay? Is my girl alright."

"Me say no fun in that. Me say do your job and find out." The monster hung up, leaving the cookie to deal with this Jabberhut fellow. The Monster would send him the info, he never did the dirty work himself, his man Oscar did that for him. Meanwhile the cookie had some business of his own to take care of.

He headed back to the states, ignoring the text with his orders for now, and went back home. Good old Tollhouse, is never smelt so good. Cookie walked in, breathing in the scent once more, and headed to the Nursery wing. It cost a fortune and a half to keep a kid here, but it was well worth it, Tollhouse was the best cookie school around.

"I'm looking for my boy, Cookie McCookie Cookieson the fifth and leastmost...I...I can't see him, not now, but could pass on a message to him? Tell him mom's safe, we're just working out some details...tell him I love him."

"No need." Cookie turned around to see his boy right there, walking in. Cookie almost ran over to hug the boy, but he stopped himself.

:I'm sorry, I don't know who you are," Cookie said, running through the door. He could hear his boy yelling behind him, but he couldn't look back, it would hurt too much if Cookie failed him .

CIA Operative Albert Jenkins tipped back his second root beer float. He had dumped in a five hour energy and three shots of espresso, and it tasted like absolute poop, but anything goes for trying to stay awake. He sat in front of the huge monitors, trying to find the green dot that meant all this surveillance had not been in vain. His long, red nose grew redder as the temperature speedball hit his nervous system.

"Here it is, Bert!" called his partner Ernest Shallom. "Just leaving LAX!"

Jenkins rolled his chair over as fast as he could to the monitor on the other wall. "My God," he breathed, dragging his fingers over the the touch screen to magnify the green dot that was speedily travelling out of Los Angeles. He touched the dot, pulling up a passport image of something gooey, yet crunchy, and chocolaty. "It's the anthropomorphic cookie!"

He and Ernie had been watching these monitors for weeks trying to find this mythical creature, the talking, walking cookie, dubbed Oatmeal Foot by some wisea** office junkies. Everyone else in the agency said they were crazy, but they had seen it, and now they were going to get it, so that Area 51 could dissect this and find out how such a thing was possible.

"Watch out, living food," said Jenkins softly. Here come the Sesame Boys. (Like Bowery Boys).

The cookie ran full pelt into a man. A very familiar looking man.

"Hey!" the cookie shouted. "Aren't you the Australian?"

"No," said the man. "I'm the Absolutely One Hundred Per Cent Most Definitely Nott Australian."
"Why is the not spelled with two Ts?"
"... I don't know how you could tell that. But it's because that's my name. Nott Australian."

"... Okay then," the cookie said, eyeing the Absolutely One Hundred Per Cent Most Definitely Nott Australian. "If you see the Australian, tell the Australian that if the Australian doesn't get back in the Australian's grave this instant, the Australian is grounded."
"I don't know who the Austra-" The cookie dismissed him with a wave. The Absolutely One Hundred Per Cent Most Definitely Nott Australian doubled over in pain.
"Ouch! No pronouns, please!"
"Huh?"
"You see, when I was young a pronoun murdered -"

"NO" said Bolt.
"What?" I asked, confused.
"I'm not doing this. First of all, you've already done that (admittedly half-decent) joke, and secondly I am NOT typing 'the Absolutely Most Definitely One Hundred Per Cent Nott Australian' EVERY TIME I want to refer to him!"
"Ouch!" said the Absolutely One Hundred Per Cent Most Definitely Nott Australian again.
I coughed. "Actually, it's the Absolutely Most Definitely One Hundred -"
"I don't care! Either change his name or get rid of the stupid pronoun thing!" I slapped a hand over the Absolutely One Hundred Per Cent Most Definitely Nott Australian's mouth before the Absolutely One Hundred Per Cent Most Definitely Nott Australian could say "ouch" again.
"FINE, FORGET THE PRONOUN THING" I shouted.

"FINE, FORGET THE PRONOUN THING," the Absolutely One Hundred Per Cent Most Definitely Nott Australian shouted. "I have no problem with pronouns whatsoever. No pronoun has ever wronged me or my family. I am entirely at peace with pronouns and with my life as a whole! And, I'll tell you what, you can just call me Nott as well! JUST NOTT! Happy?" he shouted towards the sky.
"Stop talking to the authors!" Bolt hissed.

"Ok," said the cookie. "So basically, you're entirely content with how things are and have no conflict in your life?"
Nott breathed in and out to calm himself. "Yes. Yes, I am."
"Cool. Well, you sound like a really boring character," said the cookie. "Sorry, but I think I can do better." And it ran off again.

Nott stared after the cookie, open-mouthed. Then, clenching his teeth, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a(n) [ADVERTISING SPACE FOR RENT]-brand smartphone. He used the [ADVERTISING SPACE FOR RENT] search engine to find Cookiebook and clicked "Edit" on his character page.
"A cookie murdered his parents when he was young and now he is on a quest to avenge them..."

Cookie

Cookie couldn't help but feel that history had been rewritten somehow. His chips trembled, chilling him from his head to his hershey's kisses. He hadn't felt this afraid since he went shoe shopping with Paula Deen.

"I dunno, Paula. I can't even get this shoe on my foot."
"Sweet honey pie bear sugar, just put some butter on it."
"Paula, why are you looking at me like that...?" He moves away from her, but slips on a stick of butter. Paula dives after him, teeth bared.

Cookie shivered. "Man, I have to stop meeting celebrities."
"I say, old chap, mayhaps you'd fancy a fine velvet hat!"
Cookie turned and let out a long sigh. Fortunately, it was just Pops from Regular Show (all rights reserved).
"Man, Pops, I'm having a bad day."
"I do love storytime! What say you, old man?"
"I feel like there are these really crazy people tracing me, locking in on my location...and I have Cookie Monster on my butt, and my girlfriend might die if I can't find this JabberHut guy. I'm just a lost cause with nowhere to go."
Pops had fallen asleep during his very, very short story.
"You're right, Pops. I need to go with the flow, like Spike Spiegel. Nothing bad ever happened to that guy!" Cookie noticed a heads-up Penny on the ground and leaned over to pick it up. "It must be a sign!" When he stood up, he gasped as he saw a rock in front of him with a Didgeridoo impaling its orifice. Cookie removed his sunglasses, eyes narrowed.
"Mother of God."

A sudden flash reverberated through the room, illuminating the profile of a very shocked Cookie.

Once the light died down did he see a tall, dark-skinned man dressed in white. Age was evident in those gray hairs, but could easily be fooled by his energy. It was Morgan Freeman.

"What?" Cookie Monster gaped.

"You called for God. Here I am!" Freeman said in his rich, dark tone, a pleasant smile on his face as he hovered above the ground.

While the blue, googly-eyed monster was still in shock, Freeman brushed a tiny silver hair off his suit. "Darn cat." He muttered to himself absentmindedly.

A small whoosh of breathy air came from the Didgeridoo and Freeman jumped in shock. "Hey! What're you doing here?"

"You know bamboo stick?" The Cookie had managed to regain his posture and readjust his crooked glasses, staring at Freeman in shock.

"Indeed. He is the god of Didgeridoos."

The look on Cookie's face was slowly fading into a look of annoyance. Freeman realized he had come off as sarcastic. "No, listen, my good Monster, he literally is the god of the Didgeridoos. He has come to give what you seek."

"The JabberHut! Me want JabberHut!" Cookie roared.

The Didgeridoo let out another whistle and Freeman nodded, as if he understood. "Mmhmm.."

"What it say?" Cookie demanded to know.

"He says what you seek lies in the shadowy realms of Hyrule."

JabberHut huddled behind a bush. No one would find her here. Heeeee.

The Cookie did not know what Hyrule was, or that the large, baritone musical instrument before him could play itself as a result of a clever magic trick by Hugh Jackman.

All he knew was that for some reason, both God and Cookie Monster had appeared out of nowhere and now the monster was shouting at God for this "JabberHut."

All this was overwhelming him, and as a giant living cookie, overwhelming is hard to come by.

He sat down on a bush in exhaustion, and heard a squeal from below him. He looked down and realized he had just sat upon a small woman hiding behind the shrub.

"Who are you?" the Cookie asked.

"Why, I am JabberHut," replied the woman, eyes closed, with droplets of blood coming from beneath the eyelashes.

"You're the JabberHut I've been looking for??? What's wrong with your eyes?"

"Well," answered the woman, "I saw Once Upon a Time in Mexico while I was going through an intense Johnny Depp stage. The rest is history."

The Cookie was moved with pity for the little woman. Cookie Monster was right there, arguing with God. It would be so easy to just call him over and let Cookie Monster capture this JabberHut, so he would release Sherry. Then he and Sherry would make sweet, passionate, Italian love under moonlight.

"Quick," the Cookie said, shaking JabberHut's shoulders, "what does Cookie Monster want with you???"

"I know the codes to the Cookieland missile defense system! He probably wants that information!"

Cookie shuddered. "The monster. He probably wants to invade Cookieland and begin a genocide of the cookies that live there. I can't let him do this to my home country!"

Nothing was said by Jabberhut.

"Now, be quiet. I won't turn you in," Cookie said.

"Thank you."

Cookie Monster slapped God across the face, sending his bearded head spinning around and around. When it stopped, it was 48 degrees to the left, and Cookie Monster gasped, backing away.

"It takes some serious stones to smack the creator of all that was, is, and is to come."

"Another smack is what's to come if God no take Cookie Monster to Hyrule. Cookie Monster need Missing Link. Cookie Monster need it bad."

"You wish to enter a sword and spell realm from which there is only rare and difficult return? So be it," said God, and he retrieved a Gameboy SP from his soulful booty pocket. His head fixed itself and dinged as he cracked it back and forth. God turned on the gameboy and shoved the link cable where the sun don't shine on Cookie Monster. When the boss was gone, God turned to the remaining three folks around his countenance.

"I figure you have about a day's worth of time before he manages to escape from that world. I sent him to A Link To The Past, so you may have an extra hour or two since he probably won't figure out the mirror's power in a day's time."

Cookie dropped to his knees, bowing his head. "Thank you, Jesus."

God corrected him with a cough. "Jesus has the day off. He's in Calgary with Moses for the weekend." God checked his watch and clicked his teeth thrice. "I need to get going. War's about to break loose in Syria. Need to talk some sense into Obama before America takes a big international dump on itself."

With the big blue monster trapped in the game, God/Morgan/Freeman pulled out his Ocarina and warped to the Hyrule Field, where he found a small, tear-bleeding female and a Cookie.

Dressed in all his blinding whiteness, the Cookie must have thought God was a tall cool glass of milk, for he scurried behind the woman in fear.

"You must be Jabber The Hut," he said in a breezy tone.

"That's Princess Zelda to you!"

"Whatever, I'm here to save your butt. Let's go. Cookie creature! Take us to your homeland." God ordered.

"But how do we get there? It's about three video games away!"

God said nothing, simply pulled out a white (what was it with him and white?!) smartphone and started to type.

"Darn, can't access the Hyrule wifi. Looks like I have to use my 4G, which costs extra!!"

"Wait, God has to pay-"

"Hush, you chocolate crummy delicacy! I found the cheats." God yelled happily, punching buttons on his phone. His ocarina let out a string of off-pitch tunes and they suddenly warped to Cookieland, in which Princess Zelda/Jabber/JabberHut/Jabber The Hut fell into a river of chocolate.

The Cookie flailed in despair and turned to God, to beg him to save her, but the old man had arrived by a hospital and followed his nose to the fruity taste that shows smell of freshly baked Cookies, where he would maybe, probably, perhaps accidentally eat some.

Meanwhile, in the City Of YWSville...

It's a lovely autumn day in the City of YWSville: the birds are chirping, the @Snoink is wallowing in the mud, and @Griffinkeeper motherly watches over his flock. Down by the lake, there's a fowl squabble--what the locals call a @PenguinAttack. And who's that, taking a stroll by the water? Oh, it's none other than @Rydia herself, dressed in beautiful flowing garbs that add 300 stamina and 144 intellect to her character.

Ah, yes, the day is good in YWSville...but wait! Trouble is afoot--somewhere in the park, there lurks a monstrous devil in disguise! In the trees lurks none other than the dirty, stinking, filthy, no-good, low-down, crooked, conniving, two-bit sunuvagun @Meshugenah, holding an Oreo Cookie at gunpoint. What will become of our beloved Oreo?! Who will save the day?!