Day 3
Mystery Cookie
One Day you come into work and find a cookie mysteriously placed on your desk. Grateful
to whoever left this anonymous cookie, you eat it. The next morning you come in and find
another cookie. This continues for months until one Day a different object is left—and this
time there’s a note.
A Cookie A Day Keeps The Asshole Away
by Cruz Andronico Fernandez
Emile walked into the break room with his lunch. He was the last one off
the line again, so the place was empty. He preferred it this way. He didn't
like eating around people. He felt exposed.
The
room was usually pretty clean by the time he got there. Empty of all traces of
the lunch hour. The shift boss would bitch at them if they left a mess. Today
was the same, except for one thing.
Emile
usually sat at the very back of the room with his back to the door. He always
sat in the same seat. Today, placed on the table, exactly in front of his seat,
was a large cookie sitting on a cloth napkin.
Emile
stood in front of the table, looking at this anomaly. He looked around the room;
nothing else was out of place. He poked his head out the door. No one was
around. Everyone else was probably outside smoking. He didn't smoke.
Emile
sat down. He picked the cookie up. It was soft. It smelled good. He took a
bite. It was good. Emile finished the cookie.
He
felt guilty, but the cookie was so damned good, he couldn't help himself.
Besides, who ever put it there must have left it for him. Probably a thank you
from one of the other employees, for all the extra work he does around the
plant.
Emile
is extremely quiet at work. He almost never talks to anyone else, but he does
more work than anyone. Most folks leave their equipment laying around, knowing
that Emile will pick it up and put it away. He knows they are using him but he
doesn't mind. He's just happy to have the job. He figures the cookie was left by
someone who wants to show their appreciation, but don't want to get shit from
the other guys. Emile also knows the guys call him names behind his back and
think he's weird.
The
next day Emile finds another cookie waiting for him. This brings a smile to his
face. Now he knows this is from someone expressing their gratitude. Everyday,
for the next month, he comes to lunch to find a cookie waiting for him.
Everyday, Emile's heart swells when he takes a bite of the delicious cookies
left for him. The cookies are like a medicine, curing Emile of the horrible loneliness
he's felt ever since Pollo stopped coming to the plant.
The
year before, Emile was working a late shift. He was the last to leave work that
day. While he was putting the abandoned tools away, he heard a whining outside
the door. Emile stepped outside to investigate. Sitting on the other side of
the door was a white dog, wagging his tail expectantly. Emile brought the dog
in to the plant and cleaned him up. He fed the poor dog some food left in the refrigerator
from the break room.
The
dog came back every day. Emile was told several times to stop feeding the dog.
But, he continued to feed him. He knew some of the guys resented him because
the shift boss continued to let him feed the dog, even though he was told to
get rid of it. They made fun of him for naming the dog Pollo, Spanish for
Chicken. This was another reason they thought badly of him. They thought he
might be retarded. He just thought the name was funny.
One
day Pollo stopped coming. Emile waited all night for the dog to come back. The
next day the guys shook their heads and laughed when they heard he had stayed
at the plant all night waiting for a stupid dog.
Emile
was heart broken. He searched the town for the dog. He never saw him again.
He
didn't feel any joy at work until the cookies began to show up. One day he
walked into the break room expecting to see a cookie, instead there was a box
with a note attached. Emile sat down in front of the box. He opened the
envelope. Inside was a letter. He read it.
"Emile,
I hope you liked the cookies. I made them especially for you. You do so much
for the people in this place. You do other peoples work without complaint. You
pick up their slack with out saying a word.
You
are a selfless man. But this is a harsh world, Emile. You shouldn't let people
take advantage of you like this. You must be a man. You must show them that you
are not a retard. Show them you are something more. I will help you.
Baked
inside each cookie, was a little bit of something special. Something to help
you destroy your cowardice. Something to overcome your servitude. You are not a
dog like that mutt you took care of for so long. You are a man. A man must eat
the heart of that which he does not wish to be. You are no longer a dog."
Hands shaking, Emile lifted the lid of the
box. Inside was the severed head of his beloved dog, Pollo.
I hope you liked day three! Come back for day four.
