Cookie Dough by Elizabeth L. Brooks
Mike found Neil sitting on the floor in the kitchen. He was holding a tube of cookie dough, half-eaten and drooping like a flaccid p***s.
“Go on,” Neil challenged, glaring at Mike as he came into the room. “Tell me what a whiny emo douchebag I’m being.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” Mike said. He took the cookie dough from Neil’s unresisting hand and fished the spoon out of the sticky wrapper. “What happened?”
Neil folded his arms across his chest, hunching into an even smaller ball against the cabinets. “Theo called.”
A spike of pain drove between Mike’s eyebrows and straight out the back of his head. “Oh,” he managed. “Fuck.” He scooped out a big wad of dough and slid to the linoleum beside Neil. The unbaked chocolate chips were waxy and unpleasant, but the
