Monster Cookies: a Parable | Teen Ink

Monster Cookies: a Parable

November 6, 2009
By Jack_Meriwether SILVER, Paulding, Ohio
Jack_Meriwether SILVER, Paulding, Ohio
8 articles 1 photo 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Let X equal the quantity of all quantities of X. Let X equal the cold. It is cold in December. The months of cold equal November through February. There are four months of cold, and four of heat, leaving four months of indeterminate temperature. In February it snows. In March the Lake is a lake of ice. In September the students come back and the bookstores are full. Let X equal the month of full bookstores. The number of books approaches infinity as the number of months of cold approaches four. I will never be as cold now as I will in the future. The future of cold is infinite. The future of heat is the future of cold. The bookstores are infinite and so are never full except in September...” -Proof, David Auburn

Skoonheid lived alone. He made his home in a hollowed out birch tree, and all alone he sat there, waiting for a friend to come along.
Skoonheid was a monster, which gave sense to his seclusion. The people of his town shunned monsters like Skoonheid, they didn’t speak of them; but that was because they didn’t understand them. They didn’t understand their love for music. They loved to dance. Woodland monsters are the best dancers you’ve ever seen. In the summers, they wake up dancing, and dance all day.
It was All Hallows Eve in the town where Skoonheid dwelled. He usually sat by himself on this day, but today he promised to himself that this one would be different.
One All Hallows Eve, Skoonheid made cookies, the size of small dinner plates. He offered them, but no one ate them. They were scared by his horns and claws and fur. They didn’t understand.
Skoonheid put lots of love and care into those cookies, but nobody wanted cookies from a monster like Skoonheid.
So Skoonheid procured a sheet the size of a minivan, cut holes for the eyes and slipped it over his large body. He looked in the mirror; his resemblance to a ghost was rather astonishing.
He walked the streets of the town, going from house to house, unaware. The people of the town weren’t too bright, for once Skoonheid put the sheet on his head, they didn’t realize that he was a monster. Even when he spoke and laughed. There was no difference.
He was walking along when a little boy in a small ghost costume walked up to him in a huff.
“Do you know Sandra Weller?” he was definitely on a rampage.
Skoonheid wasn’t sure how to respond to this, “No, I don’t know of a Sandra Weller”, he finally said.
“She’s a big dumb meany!”
“Don’t say that. Sandra Weller probably means well”.
“Who are you anyway?”
He paused, weighing the consequences that might ensue if he answered.
“My name is Skoonheid.”
“The boy chuckled, That’s a funny name. SKOON-HIDE”.
Skoonheid laughed too. It was true, Skoonheid was a funny name.
The little boy and the monster walked the streets of the town, till the lights on the street were getting brighter and brighter, as the world around them got darker and darker.
Their canvas bags were bursting at the seams with candy. They were tired from laughing so hard, and the little boy stopped in his tracks.
“Skoon, can you take off your costume please?”
“Why would I do a thing like that?”
“Because, you’re different. I know it to be so, Skoon”.
The little boy was very smart, Skoonheid was different. But why let that get in the way of this wonderful evening of fun and sweets? Why should Skoonheid let the smart little boy know that he was different from him?
Without thinking much, as if he was controlled by a remote, Skoonheid removed the large white sheet, leaving it as a heap on the street floor.
“Move under the street lamp so I can see you, Skoon. You’re a large black blob”.
Skoonheid took three steps back into the emanation of the street lamp.
The little boy gasped. His hands covered his mouth.
Skoonheid was utterly embarrassed. He knew that revealing his identity would ruin everything.
And then the little boy walked up to Skoonheid, felt his claws, brushed his fur. And then, reader, he laughed out loud.
“Why are you laughing little boy?” said Skoonheid.
“You are very different, Skoon. I like it”.
“Do you mean it?”
“I mean it”.
Then Skoonheid had an excellent idea.
“Let’s go dancing!”
“Dancing? Why would we do that?”
“Because dancing is the best way to show that you’re happy, little boy. We can start a fire, invite your friends. Let’s go!”
The little boy thought it was an excellent idea, and danced they did. Every little child in the neighborhood, even some adults danced around a large fire, laughing as fools.
The town got to know Skoonheid the monster, without a sheet or a tree to cover him. Revealing his identity didn’t ruin the evening, it made it. For being accepted as yourself undercover is the same as not being accepted at all.
The next year, Skoonheid made those large cookies. He put extra love and care in each bite. They were even a little bigger than small dinner plates. He offered them to the town.
And do you know what reader? They ate every one.

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