June 18, 2011
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Ding. Finally the buzzer goes off. I rush to the oven, put on a forest green oven mitt and take out freshly baked, warm chocolate chip cookies. The scent fills the kitchen. My taste buds tingle and my mouth begins to water. My favorite treat is done baking, but I have to wait for them to cool. It feels like an eternity to sit here and smell that smell, as I wish to taste that taste. Maybe just one small piece. That small piece becomes half of the cookie as I slowly split it right down the middle. The baked dough spreads apart; the cookie is still warm and gooey. As I drop it into my mouth I inhale quickly. The cookie is still awfully hot and now I'm choking on it. I grab the top of the oven to keep myself standing, and I realize that I have grabbed the part of the oven that is still fiery hot. There is no one around to help me as I suffer on the kitchen floor, clutching my burnt hand and turning purple.

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