THE CREAM-FILLED COOKIE BLUES (Part 01 of 02) By Gaylin "Jasmine" Walli, gjwalli@mtu.edu Chocolate on my fingers Icing on my lips Sugar diabetes and Blubber on my hips. I keep a night light burning in the kitchen So I can go downstairs and cruise I got them Oreo cream sandwich Chocolate covered cream filled cookie blues. -- from "The Oreo Cookie Blues" by Lonnie Mack "Schanke, what's this brown stuff on the McKay report?" Nick held the paper in question in front of him but didn't look up across his desk. It was only the skip in Schanke's heartbeat that gave it away, though. If he hadn't heard it, he wouldn't have looked up from the drawer he was rifling through to find some white out. "Schank?" Nick raised his eyebrows. "Yeah?" His partner's face was a study of innocence. Not easy for a man whose eyes shone at the very *thought* of a fresh souvlaki. Donald Schanke was doing a damn fine job of trying to appear otherwise occupied with paperwork. "The McKay report? The one we have to turn in to the Captain? It's almost the end of our shift," he wiggled the paper for emphasis. "Well it's finished isn't it?" Schanke looked up. "Yeah, but what about this brown stuff?" The corner of the report had a small brown smudge on it. Not too large to obliterate any of the two officer's fine work, but enough that it destroyed the authoritatively crisp whiteness of the front page. Squinting, Schanke said, "looks like dirt to me." Looking back down at the work in front of him, he continued "put some white out on it and the Captain won't even care." "Smells almost...sweet to me." He sniffed the paper delicately and then slid the report across the desk and under Schanke's nose. "Schanke, this looks like a fingerprint to me. And if I'm not mistaken, it's *your* fingerprint." Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he waited. He didn't have to wait long. "I didn't....it must have been....Jenny had. Ah hell." Nick was amused to hear Schanke mutter a few less-than-polite obscenities under his breath before he attempted to continue. "It was just one little slip, Nick. I mean geez, man." Nick carefully held back a smile and pressed his partner a little harder. "So you're trying to tell me that the diet Myra put you on is a little tough? Big bad detective man like you can't handle it? Come *on*, Schanke! It's only been two days." The subject of Myra Schanke's diet plan for her husband was always a great topic for office gossip. And while Nick almost always avoided those kinds of conversations, his preternatural hearing couldn't help but pick up enough bits and pieces to know that his partner was probably going through some minor food blues. Of course, the irritation, the moodiness, and the agitation Schanke displayed every time they passed a convenience store would have given just about anyone else the same information. Schanke slapped the report back onto Nick's side of the desk and stood up fast enough to knock his own chair over. "You just can't begin to understand, Nick. It's all about deprivation. Lord knows how you maintain that Spartan warrior diet anyway." "Schanke! Schanke wait!" Nick's amusement faded while he tried to apologize as his partner stalked out of the room. Deprivation. Yes, he understood deprivation. But there was no way to tell his partner that. I hide them in the kitchen I keep them in a jar For emergencies y'know i keep them in the Glove compartment of my car And I just can't live without them They get me higher than I can get on booze I got them Oreo cream sandwich Chocolate covered cream filled cookie blues. When Myra Schanke walked into her kitchen, one of the last things she expected to see was her husband awake at the kitchen table sitting in his pajamas. "Donny, what are you doing up so soon?" Setting her purse down on the countertop, she walked up behind him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and buried her nose in his neck. "Honey?" His lack of response was only one of a few clues that indicated that her husband was having some serious problems. The white knuckled grip of his two hands together was another, along with the rows of thinking-wrinkles that lined his forehead. Pulling up a chair next to him, Myra placed a hand on his thigh and asked carefully "Do you want to tell me about it?" "Do you ever wonder why you do some of the things you do Myra?" Schanke looked at her with a quizical frown, as if he wasn't really expecting an answer. "Sometimes, sometimes not" she answered warily. "It just seems to me that this whole diet thing is really kind of a waste of time. I mean after all this time of you working on getting me to diet I never really thought about why it made any difference to me. I just kind of did it because you thought it was a good idea." Myra followed his gaze as he sighed and looked at his stomach, neatly encased in the moose pajamas Jenny had given him. He continued, absently rubbing his belly, "It just seems to me that doing something because someone else thinks it's a good idea isn't really a good thing all the time, you know?" He gave a derisive snort, "No big newsflash there. But why should I lose weight, ya know? Not because *you* say it's a good idea. Not because *you* say it'll be better for my health. I think it should be because *I* want to, ya know?" Myra could only nod and stare as her husband stood and started to pace absently around the kitchen table. She'd not seen him this serious about something in a very long time. "Myra, I want to lose weight. I want to be in shape very badly. But this whole diet thing just doesn't make any sense to me. It just doesn't seem healthy." He stopped to poke the table top in front of her for emphasis. "It just doesn't make sense." Myra tried to respond, but before she could speak, Don had rushed to the refrigerator and swung open the door. Hurriedly pulling items out of the crisper, he began tossing things onto the counter top. "Carrot sticks, celery sticks, bean sprouts. There's gotta be more to eating healthy than that. I mean there's gotta be a better way to eat." He straightened from his crouch in front of the vegetable crisper and stalked toward her. Placing his hands in front of her on the arms of the chair, he leaned down and looked her right in the eye. "You can't just deprive yourself of everything. It's not healthy and I'm not going to do it any more. I want to do it correctly." Without blinking Myra answered, "All right. Where would you like to start?" THE CREAM-FILLED COOKIE BLUES (Part 02 of 02) By Gaylin "Jasmine" Walli, gjwalli@mtu.edu Doctor says I'm crazy "Y'better give 'em up and quick Or you'll be pushing up daisies boy 'cause you definitely sick." I couldn't quit if I wanted Maaaaaan I don't want to lose Them Oreo cream sandwich Chocolate covered cream filled cookie Made by Nabisco don't you know Next best thing to nookie blues. "Hey partner, you already at work? The shift hasn't even started yet." Without waiting for a reply, he continued "I got the rest of that paperwork done on the three outstandings we have and I think I have a strong lead in the burglary deal the Captain just gave us." He glanced up from his papers to the slightly surprised look on Nick's face. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?" Nick smiled and shook is head, "It's just a change from yesterday, I suppose. I thought you weren't going to be speaking to me for a while." He leaned forward and his smile faded a bit, "Schank, about yesterday. It was rude and unkind. I'm very sorry about giving you a hard time. If there's anything I can do...." he shrugged and left the sentence there to emphasize his sincerity. Schanke nodded sagely and thanked him. "No worries, partner. I just needed to get some things under control. Saw the doctor yesterday, talked to the department nutritionist before the sift started, and worked through a couple things in my head. I'll be okay. It's kinda hard to explain." Nick started again "Hey, I'm there for you. That's a promise. If there's anything I can do, anything at all...okay?" "Nawh, there's nothing...." Schanke stopped and paused. As if he had come to another decision, he continued "Actually, yeah, Nick, there is something you can do. Here." Schanke began emptying small packages from his desk drawers onto his partners. "Get rid of these for me, will ya? I don't need them any more. But I can't do this by myself, okay?" Twinkies. Choco Cremes. Cheese and Peanut Butter crackers. The collection of food accumulating on Nick's desk made him a little more than queasy, but he had made a promise. "Sure thing, Schanke." Swallowing hard he grabbed his garbage can and swept the pile into it. "I'll just go put these somewhere where we won't....smell them." Nick left to dispose of Schanke's stash of food but his partner's voice stopped him again. "Hey, Nick? About that deprivation comment I made yesterday?" Nick froze. "Yeah, Schank?" "I'm sorry. I'm sure someone like you knows what it's all about. You're a great partner, Nick. Thanks." Nearly blushing from embarrassment, Schanke turned back to his desk to continue working. Someone like him? What if Schanke knew? He mentally dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come into his head and with a smile he headed once again for the garbage dumpster. "You're welcome, Schank. You're welcome." THE END Obligatory Author's Note: Not much more than a little commentary on the "Donut Don" comments I abhor so much. Here's to keeping New Year's resolutions for another year. If I can do it, you can too (I'm down 12 sizes, so don't you dare tell me it can't be done!). And as other's have said, the character's here aren't mine; they're someone else's and I just borrowed them for a few hours. I'm not getting any profit out of this story and I don't intend to. If I find out that any one else is making money off of this, I'll hunt you down and stuff low-fat Twinkies up your nose! (Thanks for the encouragement, Tami.) -- Jasmine