“I sense that the chocolate chips have hit the fan.”
“They’re like chocolate-chip cookies, though. Can’t have just one.”
“We have begun to slam doors, and to throw things. I throw my purse, an ashtray, a package of chocolate chips, which breaks on impact. We are picking up chocolate chips for days. Jon throws a glass of milk, the milk, not the glass: he knows his own strength, as I do not. He throws a box of Cheerios, unopened.The things I throw miss, although they are worse things. The things he throws hit, but are harmless.I begin to see how the line is crossed, between histrionics and murder.”
“I’m a smart cookie. Chocolate chip.”
“Part 1- In search of Hot Chocolate-Chip Cookies”
“if s*** hits the fan, chuck the fan in the loo”