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Cookies by Douglas Adams

A man sat waiting for his train and bought cookies, coffee, and a newspaper. A stranger sat across from him and began eating his cookies without asking. Feeling too awkward to confront the man, each time the stranger took a cookie the man also took one to avoid conflict. They finished the entire packet this way until the stranger finally left, and the man discovered under his newspaper that his cookies had been there the whole time. He enjoys thinking that somewhere the stranger has been telling this same story without realizing the cookies were never actually eaten.

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662 views2 pages

Cookies by Douglas Adams

A man sat waiting for his train and bought cookies, coffee, and a newspaper. A stranger sat across from him and began eating his cookies without asking. Feeling too awkward to confront the man, each time the stranger took a cookie the man also took one to avoid conflict. They finished the entire packet this way until the stranger finally left, and the man discovered under his newspaper that his cookies had been there the whole time. He enjoys thinking that somewhere the stranger has been telling this same story without realizing the cookies were never actually eaten.

Uploaded by

SctMasD
Copyright
© Attribution Non-Commercial (BY-NC)
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
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Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd
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Cookies by Douglas Adams (author: "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy")

This actually did happen to a real person, and the real person was me. I had gone to catch a train.
This was April 1976, in Cambridge, U.K. I was a bit early for the train. I'd gotten the time of the
train wrong.

I went to get myself a newspaper to do the crossword, and a cup of coffee and a packet of
cookies. I went and sat at a table.

I want you to picture the scene. It's very important that you get this very clear in your mind.

Here's the table, newspaper, cup of coffee, packet of cookies. There's a guy sitting opposite me,
perfectly ordinary-looking guy wearing a business suit, carrying a briefcase.

It didn't look like he was going to do anything weird. What he did was this: he suddenly leaned
across, picked up the packet of cookies, tore it open, took one out, and ate it.

Now this, I have to say, is the sort of thing the British are very bad at dealing with. There's
nothing in our background, upbringing, or education that teaches you how to deal with someone
who in broad daylight has just stolen your cookies.

You know what would happen if this had been South Central Los Angeles. There would have
very quickly been gunfire, helicopters coming in, CNN, you know. . . But in the end, I did what
any red-blooded Englishman would do: I ignored it. And I stared at the newspaper, took a sip of
coffee, tried to do a clue in the newspaper, couldn't do anything, and thought, what am I going to
do?

In the end I thought, nothing for it, I'll just have to go for it, and I tried very hard not to notice the
fact that the packet was already mysteriously opened. I took out a cookie for myself. I thought,
that settled him. But it hadn't because a moment or two later he did it again. He took another
cookie.

Having not mentioned it the first time, it was somehow even harder to raise the subject the
second time around. "Excuse me, I couldn't help but notice . . ." I mean, it doesn't really work.

We went through the whole packet like this. When I say the whole packet, I mean there were
only about eight cookies, but it felt like a lifetime. He took one, I took one, he took one, I took
one. Finally, when we got to the end, he stood up and walked away.

Well, we exchanged meaningful looks, then he walked away, and I breathed a sigh of relief and
sat back. A moment or two later the train was coming in, so I tossed back the rest of my coffee,
stood up, picked up the newspaper, and underneath the newspaper were my cookies.

The thing I like particularly about this story is the sensation that somewhere in England there has
been wandering around for the last quarter-century a perfectly ordinary guy who's had the same
exact story, only he doesn't have the punch line.
(Excerpted from "The Salmon of Doubt: Hitchhiking the Galaxy One Last Time" by Douglas
Adams)

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