Treachery at $3.50 a box: Part One

February 4, 2011

It’s Girl Scout Cookie Time again, and that means it’s the only time of year where you can get Peanut Butter Patties (aka Tagalongs), better known as Girl Scout Crack.  I can kill a box in the amount of time it takes to watch the Taiwanese Weather.  And I can enjoy both of these things with my pants off.

Ninja Vicki, however, likes to keep her pants on and can inhale a box quicker than it takes for her to throw a shuriken in some non-suspecting person’s chest.  This means when she doesn’t get her Peanut Butter Patties, she gets really mean.

“Where  the cock are my Peanut Butter Patties, you sash-wearing whore?”  Ninja Vicki yells at a Girl Scout foolish enough to walk into our neighborhood, jacking her up against a tree.

“I’m out of Peanut Butter Patties,”  the Girl Scout whimpers.  “I’ve got those Lemon Chalet Cremes though.”

“Are you trying to earn your merit badge in being murdered?”  Ninja Vicki growls.  “Because if you mention any other bullshit cookie than Peanut Butter Patties I’m going to empty your guts and fill your carcass with all those crap-ass Lemon Chalet Cremes.”

“What about our new Shout Outs?”  says the girl scout.  “They have motivating messages on them and taste good with tea.”

“Do I look I need a fucking cookie to motivate me?”  says Ninja Vicki.  “I don’t need a cookie to tell me I’m going to stab your face until I can strain pasta out of it if I don’t get my Peanut Butter Patties, you fuck wagon whore bagel.”

“But I sold all my Peanut Butter Patties,”  cries the Girl Scout.

“To who?”  Ninja Vicki snarls.  “Damn it, who bought my cookies?  Spill it or I spill you!”

“Someone in a robe,”  says the girl scout. “Bought every last Peanut Butter Patties box I had.”

Ninja Vicki drops the girl scout and clenches her fist ruefully.  “Catherine… mother-cock-fucker…”

And so Ninja Vicki left the girl scout to earn her Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder merit badge to go find her arch nemesis and extract from her a pound of flesh and a  palette of Peanut Butter Patties.

To be continued…



  1. I’m trying to say that last sentence fast three times.

  2. any crazy bitchass get between me and the box of frozen thin mints in my freezer is going to be wearing my boot as a codpiece.

  3. The Samoas are bomb-diggadacious. Love those things.

    This post reminded me that I ordered like 10 boxes when I was drunk a couple Saturdays ago. I totally forgot about it until now. That’s yet another $35 deduction from my “not in student loan prison” fund.

  4. I’d like to roll Tag Larkin in peanut butter cookies and lick off every last crumb

  5. What kind of dumbass child would suggest a new cookie after being preemptively threatened for doing just that? She should get a merit badge for poor listening.

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