Pazookie….this foe is beyond any of you.

Well….that might be debatable.

Before I begin, let me introduce to you a conqueror of meals, a destroyer of dinner, and a demand-er of deliciousness. Ladies and Gentlemen, Cecilia E.

As I’m sure you can tell, this lovely example of foodie-ness at its best is a pro. At eating. Delicious things.

I blame Cecilia for what you are about to experience. Viewer discretion is advised.

“In this corner we have Cecilia, Stephanie, Amanda, and Lauren! And in this corner, a foe so terrible, so delicious, so artery clogging that it’s name should only be uttered in a whisper for fear of throwing the earth itself off her axis….pazookie.

Take 1 chocolate chip cookie with the consistency of cake, multiply it by the dimensions of a large pizza, pile high with vanilla ice cream, and enjoy.

Real chocolate cardiac arrest. But here’s a disclaimer. You will not enjoy the entire consumption process. Sure it’s all fun and games. That is until you hit…the wall.

The wall: A dark place deep inside of each of us when we start to doubt our ability to keep going. This wall is the same, whether you’re a marathon runner or a pazookie eater. Yes I just made that comparison. Try to eat one, I dare you!

Pre-pazookie we were all giggles and smiles, congratulating ourselves on the exceptional idea of eating a giant cookie covered in ice cream at a sports-themed restaurant (BJs to be specific). Our waiter, a balding British man, was only slightly judgmental when the four of us opted to share a party pazookie instead of sissy miniature sized everyday pazookies. (The table next to us – a family of 8- were all sharing one such sissy pazookie…amateurs, why did they even bother showing up?)

Continuing on, the excitement built as the waiter approached…and then the judgement rained down upon us. Hardcore. Everyone in the vicinity stared. Jealous much? That was what I wanted to shout back at them. Haters gonna hate.

Cry “Havoc!” and let slip the dogs of war!! The eating began. And continued. And continued.

“DON’T STOP EATING!” Cecilia practically yelled it at us. “You guys better not disappoint me.”

With such encouragement, I had to keep going. It had become my quest, my purpose, this was no longer a fun night out with the girls. It was a desperate attempt to stay alive, to not disappoint my friend, and to disregard any respect I ever had for abdominal capacity.

Stephanie (the smallest) was the first to fall. She was soon followed by Amanda.

With almost a half a pazookie left, Cecilia looked at me. It was the same intensity Sam had when he was holding on to Frodo and pleaded, “Don’t you let go!” I could see it in her eyes, but could feel my own weakness.

I took my leave minutes later, but like the champion she is, Cecilia would not be defeated. The waiter came to us during a period of rest and tried to rescue what was left of the pazookie. “Oh no,” I murmured, “she’s not done.” Never in my life have I witnessed so much judgement.

“Alright guys,” Cecilia said, “everyone has to take one more bite.”

One more bite. The idea both fascinated and repulsed me.

We made a pazookie toast (something to the tune of “Only the good die young”), and took the final bite. We walked the plank of the dessert world. I would not have the strength to repeat this culinary quest. Mentally and physically exhausted, we paid for our victory in more than just cash. We sold our souls to the sugar satan, eventually recovering, but forever changed.

Thus ends the tale of the party pazookie.

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