Chapter Text
"Ok ok ok, me tell you what. Me like you, so me make a deal" The shining silver creature said amiably, wrapping a furry arm around the utterly bewildered Reed Richards. "Yoou bring me year's supply of nature's most perfect food, and me spare your planet"
The world's smartest man blinked. "That's, er, very kind of you, Mister, Chrome Cookie was it?" Behind him, Sue and Ben exchanged disbelieving looks, while Johnny tried not to die laughing. "But, what pray tell do you consider the world's most perfect food?"
"It not obvious?" gasped the googly-eyed gourmet of the galaxy "COOKIES!"
Johnny shrugged. "Eh. Cupcakes are better".
"WHAT?" Bellowed the Shining Scarfer of Stars "THAT HERESY! NEVERMIND CALLING MASTER GALACTUS, ME EAT YOUR PLANET MESELF!"
Ben facepalmed. "What a revoltin' development"
Sue smacked her brother upside the head. “Please excuse Johnny; he was born with an inability to think before he speaks. I promise, Mister Cookie, the rest of us share your opinion about cookies. Especially Chocolate Chip”.
The Chrome Consumer of Calories nodded. “Very well. Me forgive him, but me still grumpy. And when me grumpy, me get hungry. So! Me give you time limit, yes! You have Ooone day to bring me year’s supply of COOKIES. It very boring in space. If me going to find better location for Master Galactus to have meal, me need snacks for the road.”
Reed extricated himself from the Soaring Scouter of Snacks’ grip. “Agreed. Thank you for your kindness, we will gather the cookies you require as quickly as possible.”
“Yes good! While me wait, me explore city!”
It was a weird day, even by the admittedly high standards of New Yorkers. While the Fantastic four scoured every grocery store, bakery, and kitchen in the state, The Mighty Metallic Muppet lived up to his word, sailing on his shining silver cookie like a surfboard across the City, stopping anywhere that caught his eye.
He caught a show on Broadway, Making the late afternoon performance of Hamilton even more memorable than usual.
While the Fantastic Foursome expanded their desperate search to New Jersey, the staff of Bergdorf Goodman were faced with the near insurmountable challenge of finding a suit in size Muppet.
Lombardi’s pizza faced a different kind of crisis. The Furry Feast Finder, appetite enflamed by suit shopping and attracted by the flat, round, almost cookie like shape of their pizzas, descended on the shop like a googly eyed apocalypse, singing “Pizza shaped like Cookie, that close enough for me!” and consuming every item on the menu, one table, and half the cash register, before departing wearing a souvenir T-shirt.
“No, listen. You don’t understand” an exhausted Johnny Storm explained to the extremely skeptical security guard outside the Albany Keebler Cookie factory. “I need to requisition every single cookie in the entire factory. The fate of the world is literally at stake”
“Me not get it” The Cosmic Cookie Consumer scratched his head. “You stand in costume that look remarkably like me cousin, and people take pictures? That seem odd way to earn money for Cookies”
The man in the red furry costume shrugged. “Eh, it’s a living”.
“Hey Stretcho, I know you’re the one with the plan, but couldn’t that big brain come up with a better way o’ transporting all these cookies than havin’ me carry them all?” The Thing griped. “I ain’t too keen on findin’ out if I can get a hernia or not”.
To his credit, Reed looked embarrassed. “I’m terribly sorry Ben, but I just didn’t engineer the Fantasticar to be able to haul the necessary weight. Unless we can find an alternative solution quickly, it’s entirely up to you”
Meanwhile, the security at Trump Tower was faced with it’s greatest challenge ever. Security guards and Secret Service agents alike watched in bafflement as the Shimmering Smiter of Snack Bars looked around the penthouse with an expression of disgust. “What the deal with all this gold?” Cried the Interplanetary Interior Design Critic of Doom, “There just too much! It like Vegan Gluten Free Cookie! No taste at all!”
The Adamantine Appraiser of Infinity turned to The First Lady, who was huddling in a corner surrounded by guards with a mildly offended expression on her face. “Tell you what, you look me up when you decide to remodel. Me know a guy”
Rotating his mighty silver board, he phased through the wall and flew off to continue his tour. The Bouchon Bakery never knew what hit it.