"ELI, what the hell kind of cookies are these and where did you get them?"

I did actually know where they came from- gwammas', Christmas Eve when he visited. The brightly decorated sack had ridden in the console of the truck since then when he returned.

Today, after I lacquered the driftwood...

...well, I was a bit hungry, enough to be curious about the contents of same said sack.

I pulled one of the gnarliest cookies I'd ever seen from the top and gave it a bite without much thought. I was pre-occupied, just wanted a wee snack you see. Not all cookies are especially pretty anyway... I rationalized.

These were most likely done by one of his female cousins, not so experienced in baking and presentation.

I shouldn't let the appearance deter me from sampling their work.

It was dry... not so surprising.

Not sweet in the least. No.

Chew... hmmm, some sort of Russian recipe from the steppes during a period of awful austerity?  

(one cup of mouse turd, etc) 

Uh... Gag... "SON!!"

"What Dad-- why the sour face? You look like you just ate one of those doggie snacks. You... no you didn't!" 

"Doggie snack?"  

 So, I gave the remaining chunk of baked whatever it is to the dog.

The above is him trying to distance himself. 

This, a dog that will gleefully roll around in the remnants of week old fish carci at peak summer heat.   

I've spent the time since wincing, gargling and trying to keep my mind off of what those little mincemeat colored specs are.. ewww!