Jethro’s Thoughts On…Gingerbread Oreos.

good

On occasion, Jethro tries to weasel his way onto the blog.  He’ll come up with this idea or that.  Or sometimes he’ll just flat out ask for a special appearance.  I tell him that this thing I do is not as easy as just showing up.  This blog is hard work!  I’m not just sitting at my desk whipping shit up and just posting it willy-nilly 1.  This thing takes time and dedication.  Not to mention the intestinal fortitude of an armpit smeller for Mennen.

Now this one has a delightful aroma, with just a hint of nutmeg.

So, when I picked up a package of Gingerbread Oreo cookies at the store the other day, my first thought was:  Post!  My second thought was:  When the hell am I going to start making some coin off this stupid blog?  My 215th thought was:  I know. I’ll get Jethro’s thoughts on these.

And, thus, another idear is born:

good

“Hey, Jethro. I got these new Oreos.  Wanna try them?”  I asked, bringing the package of cookies up from one of my many secret hiding places.  Don’t even try it.  Like you don’t have a hundred and 17 places where you hide your goodies?!?!

“You got another pack of Oreos?” Natalia asked from her station at the family computer desk.

“Mind your own business, Natalia.”   I instructed her.

“But, you keep buying these disgusting flavors.”  She said with a face.  “They’re all gross.  Why can’t you just buy normal ones?”

good

“It’s all in the name of science, sweetheart.”  I opened the package and motion toward Jethro.  “You gonna try one or what?”

“Whatever, dad.”  Natalia said with an eyeroll, returning to whatever slave social media she subscribed to at the moment.

“Ignore her, Jethro.  This is your chance at fame.  Fortune, even!”  I said, pushing the open package closer to Jethro.

“Ok.”  He replied, tentatively taking one of the cookies.  He turn it over a few times, like an archaeologist inspecting a rock or some shit.

You thought I was goin with Indiana on this one, didn’t you?!?!?

“Fortune and fame!”  I egged him on.

He nodded affirmatively, taking a bite.

“Well?”  I asked, leaning forward.

“Good.”

I stared at him for a long moment, waiting for more utterances of profundity to spew forth (fucking poetry in motion.  Suck it, Mark Twain!).  “That it?”  I questioned.

“Yea.”  He continued to nod.  “Good.”

I shook my head in disbelief.  “How the hell am I going to write a post about “good”, Jett?”

“I dunno.”  He shrugged, taking another cookie out of the package.  “They’re just…good.”

“Great, Jett.  Thanks for your help…”

 

images courtesy of:
armpit:  guardian.co.uk
archaeologist:  vbui17.blogspot.com

 

  1. yes I am

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