They're here. There is nowhere to hide. They know where you live. They know where you shop. They have cookies and freckles and sweet little faces, and they have no mercy...
Oh, you laugh... but there is something deeply diabolical about these sick little tykes with their scrubbed faces, sitting at tables outside the local market or Walmart with their pink cheeks and box upon box of resolution-destruction. Brightly colored boxes with "0% TransFat" and other hypnotic lures printed in cheery letters, a merry, seductive font. You walk in thinking you'll strut right by as you leave.
You think to resist? No. Resistance is futile. Everyone knows it. Walk by on the way in, go ahead. But make sure you leave space in the carriage, hero. You'll be leaving with several boxes. Thin mints. Oh yeah. Samoas, with their caramel and coconut. Yup. Or Tagalongs, perhaps, with their rich peanutbutter buttons of joy... just give in. You'll be giving in anyway.
And you know... I don't really have a problem with girlscouts or cookies or the sale of cookies by girlscouts. I don't. But why now? Why on this first full moon of a brand new year, with snow coming to trap me inside with those mocking, evil, brightly colored boxes? Why in January?
Because they're cute, yes, and sweet, yes, but they are also very, very clever. Don't be fooled. Don't try to avoid the inevitable. Just buy the damned cookies, eat the damned cookies, and pray you survive til the next assault...