Crotch Cookie


I wake in the middle of the night to find that Theo’s…well, there’s no right way to say this, so I’m just going to say it: he’s nocturnal-emissioned all over me. Which is my fault for dozing off beside his crotch in the first place, but still. Come on.

I sit up, nudging him hard.

He shifts onto his side, blinks groggily at me in the light of the alarm clock. “Huh?”

“Thanks for the facial,” I say, and nod toward his wang, which, having escaped his sweatpants, has gone all hentai, and is smiling cheerfully at me.

More blinking, another “huh?”—and then, realizing what’s happened, Theo comes fully awake, rolls out of bed, stumbles to his feet, hastily tucks himself back into his sweats. “Oh, geez, oh, man, oh, sorry, sorry!” He rushes over to his desk, returns with a box of Kleenex. “I’m soo sorry, Mini. Really, I am…”

Taking a wad of tissue, I dab at my face. I’ll admit, I’m appreciative of the sentiment as well as the audacity of a twelve-year-old boy apologizing to his pocket puppet in the middle of the night. Regardless: yuck. After a few minutes spent effectively moisturizing my plush with Theo’s secret sauce, I suggest the washing machine. No, not suggest—demand.

Nodding, Theo grabs me, the blanket (also victimized), and we sneak quietly down to the garage. He sets me on the washer, opens the lid, starts cramming in the sullied blanket.

“Was it a good one, at least?” I ask.

“What?” Theo mumbles.

“The dream. Was it a good one?”

He blushes, doesn’t say anything as he preps the washer.

“Bro, you don’t just come on a guy and then not tell him why.”

Theo bites his lip.

“Let me guess. You and Eva were doing it.”

“Not exactly.”

“You and Eva were naked together, then.”

He bites his lip again; blood trickles down his chin. “Kind of.”

“‘Kind of’ doesn’t exist. You were either naked or you weren’t.”



“It was…weird.”

“Most dreams are.”

“Yeah, but this was…” Theo trails off. “We were doing yoga in my mom’s studio—”

“Naked yoga.”

“—and we stopped to take a break. We sat down together on my mat. For some reason I had chocolate chip cookies with me, and I asked if Eva wanted one. She said yes, but as I was handing it to her, it fell onto my crotch. I started to tell her I’d get her a new cookie, but she just reached out, grabbed the crotch one, and popped it into her mouth.” Theo swallows hard. “That’s when I…I…er, um—”

“Lost your cream filling?”

He looks away in acknowledgment as he knocks me into the washer, grabs the detergent.

I right myself in the tub.


“You’re going to try the cookie thing on her, aren’t you?” I ask.

Theo frowns, measures out the soap. “Of course not.”

“Of course not.”

“That’s dumb.”


He dumps the soap in, closes the lid over my head.

Opens it again a moment later. “Do you think she likes chocolate chip?”

I glower at him. “Wash me, please.”

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Dookie, a shitty horror novel by Jesse Gordon

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Jesse Gordon

Geek. Writer. Supreme overlord of the SUPERMEGANET pseudoverse. Author of THE OATMEAL MAN, DOOKIE, and other such wasteful nonsense.