You wanted cookies. I give you the classic chocolate chip.
What brand of chocolate?
Why the fuck are you baking cookies? The next Snack is due in an hour and you haven’t even given it to me yet! Stop procrastinating or I’m telling Laurie.
Oh my god.
Did I just see the monster get scolded? I’m in awe!!!
She is pernicious.
You pay me to be.
No more fucking cookies unless you’re licking the crumbs off your god damn keyboard. What am I supposed to say? You want me to have to email Adrienne and be like, “Yo, Sigh-bear was late with the copy because he was really in need of some fucking chocolate chips. It’s cool though, right?”
I know where you live.
Bring it, you lazy blood-sucker
I said it. Now what, son? Get to work. I’m not kidding. You’re in breech of contract! They are way nicer to you than they need to be because of exclusivity, so don’t shit where you eat.
One day, I will tread the sod above your miserable corpse and eat cookies.
Go eat something with meat in it, you melodramatic tree climber