Flash Fiction Challenge: The Great Cookie Conflict

mr pish cookie monster copyright k.s. brooks. Do not use without attribution
Mr. Pish photo copyright K. S. Brooks. Do not use without attribution.

The toll of war is not always measured in the spilling of blood. There are struggles that embody something beyond nationalism and petty politics. They strike at the very foundation of civilization, the very meaning of life itself.

This war, however, began with a dispute over a snickerdoodle. Oh, if only there had been a pan of brownies instead. Brownies just make everything simpler.

The combatants were a very famous and well-loved little white terrier and an obscure mop-like character from a little-known children’s television show. One snickerdoodle – two mouths. Oh, the humanity!

Welcome to the Indies Unlimited Flash Fiction Challenge. In 250 words or less, write a story incorporating the elements in the picture and the written prompt above. Do not include the prompt in your entry. The 250 word limit will be strictly enforced.

Please keep language and subject matter to a PG-13 level.

Use the comment section below to submit your entry. Entries will be accepted until Tuesday at 5:00 PM Pacific Time. No political or religious entries, please.

On Tuesday night, judges will select the strongest entries, and on Wednesday afternoon, we will open voting to the public with an online poll so they may choose the winner. Voting will be open until 5:00 PM Thursday.

On Friday afternoon, the winner will be recognized as we post the winning entry along with the picture as a feature. Then, at year end, the winners will be featured in an anthology like this one. Best of luck to you all in your writing!

Entries only in the comment section. Other comments will be deleted. See HERE for additional information and terms. Please note the rule changes for 2015.

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3 thoughts on “Flash Fiction Challenge: The Great Cookie Conflict”

  1. ***FINALIST***

    Snickerdoodle (247)

    They sat on leather chairs in a wood paneled office. Between them lay a single cookie, steam still rising, the smell of hot cinnamon and butter filling the room.

    “Just relax.”said Dr Pish, trying to comfort and coax his patient through this final challenge. “Remember how far we’ve come”.

    Seated across from him was Patient M.. A lifelong addict and borderline sociopath who had come to the world renowned “psychiatrist to the stars” desperate and out of control.

    Dr. Pish had earned his reputation by getting miraculous results using unconventional methods and had cemented his notoriety with a fast lane lifestyle that was every paparazzi’s dream.

    The patient suddenly rolled his eyes wildly as temptation hammered at his resolve. Seeing that his patient was losing the battle, Dr Pish switched to his most professional, hypnotic voice and continued the encouragements. “Remember, C is not for Cookie; C is for Courage.”

    But, it was too late, as if consumed by a berserker’s rage, Patient M stretched to his full height and bellowed, “ME WANT…”

    He never finished his sentence. Dr. Pish sent him reeling by leaping onto the table, his four paws flared protectively around the luscious cookie, and his head lowered. Before the patient could recover, Pish scooped up the cookie and bolted it down in three swallows.

    Patient M, wide mouthed and stunned, just stared at Pish .

    After licking his chops, Dr. Pish re-took his seat and said simply, “Tough love…Pish style.”

  2. ***FINALIST***

    Cookie Masher, the undefeated warrior champion of the 1%ers and managed by BMW (Bank of Mid-World), glared at his puny challenger. Though famous for his prowess at protecting greedy CEOs, what Cookie desired most was to star in the children’s television show in which he currently had only cameo appearances. Continually held back by that stupid frog and giant, yellow bird, Cookie was convinced that the magical snickerdoodle would give him his wish.

    Said snickerdoodle laid half-way between Cookie and the lovable though puny white terrier that championed the Ninety-Niners. Mr. Pish was not worried about Cookie’s record of victories. He was a super-hero after all and he had a tried and true weapon.

    Mr. Pish rose up on his back legs, from his right paw hung a string. He grinned at Cookie and called out, “Ready when you are!”

    Cookie snorted, “You call that string a weapon? Prepare to die, Pish!”

    The white terrier grinned and began to swing the string in a circle above his head. Cookie slashed the air with his ten-foot long sword and advanced in thundering steps. He only made two before Mr. Pish released one-half of the string. A pebble shot from the patch and slammed into Cookie’s forehead, instantly dropping him unconscious to the ground. Mr. Pish grabbed the snickerdoodle and shoved it into his mouth. He turned to face his cheering fans as his body began to glow from within.

  3. The combatants had their strengths. The pup was lithe and quick. The blue monster had the magic of puppetry. For each of them the cookie was real.

    They faced off, opposite sides of the table. The choice was clear, rush over the table itself and broke social graces or race around the side of the table and stretch for glory, the snickerdoodle in the center.

    The white pup lacked social graces so he scrambled up and over the edge of the table. And the blue mop, forced in his puppetry status, ran along the side. The advantage went to the mop due to the ease of the run.

    The monster reached the area of the cookie first and had reached but he hadn’t counted on the quickness of the puppies scurrying legs. The pup slipped on the glossy surface of the table and fell into a power slide that took him past the cookie.

    In that moment as he slipped past, the blue monster latched on to the near edge of the snickerdoodle. The puppy snatched at his near edge. The met in the center in a stalemate, but the puppy slid past and the cookie split right down the middle.

    As each combatant devoured their shared portions of cookie the crumbs flew around them in the carnage of the spoils of war. In the end there were no clear winners and winners all around. It was the cookie that suffered the dog’s of war.

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