Losing Your Cookies II
“We’re not implementing nookie for cookies,” Andi said, “We’ve been over that. A lot.”
Carl chuckled. “And it’ll cause more problems than it’ll cure. I get that. It’s just–”
The snack cupboard exploded open. One hinge mangled, the door hung askew as boxes of cookies fell from the cabinet in a steady waterfall. Well, cookiefall. Carl watched the cascade with fascination. The pooling cookie parts on the floor tickled his appetite, and he actually felt himself walking across the crunchy floor. He wouldn’t remember it later, but his darker self fancied picking cookie bits from the soles of his feet and popping them into his mouth.
“Carl?”
His eyes flicked back to Andi, and then back to the cupboard. The door was closed. No cookie-mageddon.
“Carl, what is it?”
He shook his head. “Just hungry. Zipped off to Candyland there for a moment.” He stood up and went to refresh his glass of water.
Andi tracked his movements across the kitchen, swiveling on her butt. She sighed, pleased with his physical progression but uncertain about the mental hiccups he was exhibiting. “The gaming isn’t doing you much good?”
Carl drained the glass of water and refilled it before answering. “The gaming’s fine. It bites into the time and the hunger pretty well, but I can only spend so much time on the rig. It’s the real world that’s becoming fuzzier.”
“Fuzzier?”
He thought about it, then shook his head, retreating to comfortable territory. “Did I tell you that some of the Treants heard it?”
Andi raised an eyebrow, wondering about the reference to his guild mates.
“My stomach. They heard it growling over the open mic.”