Tossing your cookies

The Lawn-Cutting Crew is a humor fiction blog. It's sort of like a comic strip, but without the drawings. It offers self-contained chapters and lots of laughs.

We were cruising down the highway in the maintenance truck, driving to our next job. Our trailer full of tools swung behind us, the wheels drifting across the lane.

I was crammed in the backseat, sitting between Juan and Slim. Slim was an overweight, acne-ridden guy whose massive gut hung over his waist. I had to press against Juan to make room, and Juan had to press against the door.

Slim was always snacking or smoking. Today, he had a Ziploc bag in his lap. He kept reaching in and pulling out cookies.

He elbowed me in the ribs, making me gasp.

“Want one?” he asked, shoving an oatmeal cookie in my face.

I grimaced. “Depends. Where did they come from?”

“My girlfriend made them,” Slim said. “She’s a hell of a baker. C’mon, man. Try one. They’re awesome!” 

“I really shouldn’t,” I said, biting my lip. Just the thought of Slim’s house — and the sanitary conditions of the kitchen in which the cookies were baked — made me want to wretch. 

“You really should. I insist.” He thrust the bag at me. “Here, take one. I’ve been eating them all morning. I can’t keep my hands out of the bag!”

I sighed, then reluctantly reached in and took a cookie. 

Just because Slim was dirty and unkept didn’t mean his girlfriend was, I thought to myself.

I brought the cookie to my mouth and nibbled on the end, as if I were tasting a turd. 

“They’re good, aren’t they?” Slim asked, elbowing me in the ribs again.

I shrugged. “Yeah. I have to admit, they’re pretty tasty.”

And they were. My stomach muscles relaxed, and I took a bigger bite off the cookie. 

Yeah, I thought. Perhaps Slim’s girlfriend was hygienic after all — even if Slim himself was from from it.

“I told you my girlfriend could bake,” Slim said, munching on his cookie.

Then, out of nowhere, he crammed his hand down his pants — the same hand he was using to dip into the cookie bag — and started to scratch furiously. 

My jaw dropped. “What are you doing?”

“I developed this awful rash on my thigh over the weekend,” Slim said. “I don’t know where it came from, but it itches like crazy. I’ve been scratching all morning. I can’t keep my hands out of my pants!”

I lunged over Juan and stuck my head out the window, gagging. Cookie crumbs spewed from my mouth and landed on the passing roadway. The car in the lane beside us swerved and honked. 

“Oh, wow,” Slim said, frowning. “You must not care for my girlfriend’s baking.”

“He must not,” said Crew Leader Carl, who was up front, driving. “He’s tossing his cookies all over the highway.” 

Author: Allen

I’m a humorist and fiction writer, as well as the author of two books. One is a collection of humor, and one is a collection of short stories. Both books are available on Amazon. I always wanted to write a comic strip, but I can’t draw. Not even a stick-person. So that’s why “The Lawn-Cutting Crew” is a comic strip without drawings. I hope you enjoy!

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