“Leave,” Cookie Monster commands. “Before Cookie Monster gives you another.”
Creepe’s good hand twitches by his side. He wants to take out his ax and split the powerful Cookie Monster in two.
“The black dot,” Cookie Monster says. “Give it to Cookie Monster.”
Creepe grimaces. “You want to speak the whore’s foolish words?” he says. “Fine.” He reaches behind his ear and takes the magical dot off.
He fooled the noble Cookie Monster and made him eat it. Cookie Monster was humiliated in front of his mate.
“On the rock,” Cookie Monster commands. Creepe listens and places the dot on the rock before backing up to the exit of the cave.
“You choose this hideous pink whore over your own tribe?” Creepe asks, shaking his head. “Over your own Drandroka?”
“You are not Drandroka,” the swift Cookie Monster says, pointing the arrow at him. “You are Seeka. You always were. Now go with your vile tribe and never come back.”
With a sneer, he leaves, disappearing into the dark forest. The powerful and noble Cookie Monster watches him, making sure that he is truly gone. He will stay up through the night to protect his beautiful mate and then in the morning, they will return to the safety of the village.
And talk in Rolanda’s magical language.
The swift Cookie Monster kneels in front of the rock and takes the magical black dot in his hand. He places it behind his ear and…Krakalore!
It is like a hundred grilabites running through Cookie Monster’s head at once. It is over fast and then…nothing.
The cave is quiet, just the crackling of the fire and the sweet sound of Rolanda’s soft breathing.
Cookie Monster is excited to see if he will be able to speak in his mate’s melodious language. He will have to wait until she awakens to find out.
seven
My eyelids feel like they have weights on them. My head is pounding like a war drum and my mouth is as dry as stale bread.
This is how I felt when I woke up on the canvas after Michelle White knocked me out cold. That was when I was still a rookie. I could kick her ass now.
But I’m not in a caged ring and as that realization slowly dawns on me, I jerk up to a seated position, ignoring the incessant throbbing that’s racking my brain right now.
There’s a blue dude in front of me but it’s not the one that I was expecting. We’re back to Cookie Monster.
I raise my hands, clenching them into fists as I back away. But my legs and arms are so heavy, the sedative or whatever the hell that was is still working, weighing them down, making me slow. I hate feeling helpless but that’s exactly how I feel right now.
“It’s okay,” he says with his hands out. “Don’t be scared. Everything is okay.”
I gasp, too shocked at the moment to remember to be afraid. He’s speaking English. How is he speaking English?
Am I still hallucinating?
“Cookie Monster won’t hurt you,” he says, slowly sliding a knife from his boot.
The fear comes back and I grab the end of a flaming log from the fire and wave it at him. It burns like the end of a flaming log would but I’m sure it feels better than the blade of that knife, so I hold on tight.
“Take it,” he says, handing the knife over handle first. “Take this if it will make you feel safer.”
I drop the burning log onto the ground and snatch the knife from his hand and then back away, holding it out in front of me. “Stay back,” I warn, squeezing the smooth handle. The knife is one long piece, which seems to be carved from bone or something. But it looks sharp enough to cut through any Sesame Street character who wants to try anything funny so I hold onto it.
He shows me his faded blue palms as he slowly takes a step back. “Cookie Monster won’t hurt you,” he repeats.
“You speak English now?” I ask, glancing around the cave for any other signs of danger. It seems to be just us in the small cave. “How?”
Cookie Monster kneels in front of the fire and turns the meat that’s cooking on the spit made out of orange branches. The smell of the meat is incredible and for the first time, I realize how ravenously hungry I am.
“The noble and swift Cookie Monster has this,” he says, pointing to a large mole behind his ear.
“A freckle?” I ask, scrunching my nose up in confusion.
“Yes,” he says with a nod. “A freckle.”
I roll my eyes, turning my attention back to the food. “Where is your friend? He tried to hurt me.”
Wait, how far did he get?
I quickly check my clothes. My underwear and bra are both still on and intact, including my shorts and t-shirt. I don’t think they did anything inappropriate. They wouldn’t be able to remove the clasp of my bra or unbutton my shorts with those big clunky fingers.
Plus, I feel relatively normal down there, and I think I would feel a bit sore after taking in his impressive thirteen inches.