There is No Umlaut, Only Cookies
We stood in the nook of the bookstore, looking over a cookbook. We were looking for the best cookie recipe. It took a long time to find it, but we finally found a good cookbook to make cookies.
We hung the book on the nearest hook in the crook of the cabinet where we keep our cookbooks. I got the flour and she got the sugar. I got the milk, she got the eggs. We were ready to bake cookies.
I looked in the flour bag, though, and I mistook dark spots to be something like soot, but saw that they were nasty weevils. I jumped and accidentally dropped some onto my bare foot. I shook my foot then used the book to gather the fallen flour while she wiped down the wood countertop. I opened the door and pushed the no good weevils with a broom outside to die.
We could finally get back to the cookies. We got the cookbook to the cookie recipe, got all of the ingredients we could, and scooped the batter with the wooden spoon onto the cookie sheet. We didn't care how big they would be, because we knew they'd still taste good.
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