(Note: the original title has been changed because I was convicted it was, inadvertently, insensitive and not well-thought-out.)


Please forgive me while I get straight to the point: I wish had been there when the idea for the gingerbread house was pitched.

Cookie Boss: So what’s this idea of yours? And make it snappy; I have a 2 o’clock with the Keebler Elves.

Cookie Underling: Two words: Cookie House.

Boss: I’m listening.

Underling: We make a kit with pieces of cookie that can be assembled to make a house.

Boss: And, how would these cookie pieces stick together, some kind of interlocking mechanism?

Underling: Nope. Icing.

Boss: Icing?

Underling: Yes, Icing. We include a bag of indeterminately-aged icing for them to use as a type of cookie mortar.

Boss: I see. So the icing dries and permanently holds the pieces together. . . I like . . .

Underling: You would think! But no. The icing would APPEAR to be holding everything together, but when they try to add the final decorations, the entire structure collapses. Because it’s just icing!

Boss: Hmm. I see. Seems like a total pain for the customer and thus risky for us.

Underling: Well, sir, by the time they figure this all out, we already have their money, and, seeing as everything within a twelve foot radius will be covered with icing and fondant and what remains of the colorful candy pieces, AND due to the fact that the kids will be wailing so much from the combination of sugar and disappointment, the parents, who are by this time three glasses into a bottle of Riesling they had been saving for Thanksgiving, would just want the experience to be over with and would tell the kids that if they agreed to stop the madness and forget it ever happened, they can have as much ice cream as they want and can even eat the ruins of the cookie house.

Boss: Interesting. But won’t this terrible experience lead them to never buy a “cookie house” again?

Underling: That’s the beauty of it! Their sense of holiday nostalgia will lead them to COMPLETELY forget the fiasco and repeat the same excruciating routine. Every. Single. Year.

Boss: Incredible. I haven’t been so excited since the International Fruitcake Convention of 1952. You’re going places, my friend.


Happy (almost) Holidays, friends. Thanks for reading!

2 thoughts on “Bringing Down the House

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