You carefully break the cookie, eat it and find a small note inside saying:



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        It was the next morning that the armies of Twodor marched east

laden with long lances, sharp swords, and death-dealing hangovers.  The

thousands were led by Arrowroot, who sat limply in his sidesaddle,

nursing a whopper.  Goodgulf, Gimlet, and the rest rode by him, praying

for their fate to be quick, painless, and if possible, someone else's.

        Many an hour the armies forged ahead, the war-merinos bleating

under their heavy burdens and the soldiers bleating under their melting

icepacks.

                -- The Harvard Lampoon, "Bored of the Rings"

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