The Cookie Monster and other menaces

This weekend, I was accosted by the Cookie Monster.

The Cookie Monster's modus operandi, hugging, is harmless on the surface, save for the threat of asphyxiation from fur inhalation. Sure, the cuddly blue fellow looks innocent, but can he be trusted? NO. In the wake of his fluffy embrace he leaves you with a voracious hunger for delectable sugary goodness. I elected to feed my hunger with cookies from my favorite bakery. The hunger can only be sated when you have consumed a) enough to feel nauseated or for those with a hardier constitution, b) your weight in pastries.



Other evils include the Dance Monster. Like Superman, the DM moves too quickly to be observed by the human eye, but has been captured on film as a purplish blur. The Dance Monster's MO features light, nearly indetectable bites as a means of transmitting its infectious dance molecules. Once infected, the victim begins to display symptoms that work their way up the body: foot tapping leads to booty shaking leads to chest pumping leads to arm waving. The face of the victim is a mixture of shock, horror, embarrassment and confusion as the body begins to move with a life of its own. However, once the affliction fully takes hold, it consumes the victim entirely--mind, body, and soul--and they even begin to enjoy the dance. Attacks by the Dance Monster have occasionally proven fatal (see, e.g. Michael Flatley).



The Party Monster is often confused with the Macaulay Culkin film. However, the truth about the PM is much more sinister and disturbing than a simple movie featuring a troubled former child star could ever be. Party Monsters are lured like moths to the flame of revelry that is known as party. However, the Party Monster exists on a different physical plane than the one we do. In order to gain access to our plane of existence, the PM must temporarily inhabit a human body. Humans prove poor hosts, however, and resist the intruder, frequently through wild flailing of limbs and loss of bladder control. This is exacerbated by the PM's aquatic nature; in order to survive in our arid environment, PMs consume whatever liquid they can, frequently resorting to alcohol, readily available at any party. Thankfully, once a human host becomes too inebriated to remain conscious, the PM usually leaves the host, with no remaining ill effects or memory of the party's proceedings, save a dry mouth and the unavoidable embarassing pictures.