Prithee tell--what makes a cookie sumptuous as the mildewed air, and spongy as a forgotten mattress used by lovers now long past their bed-by date (for all but a daring few) Know it well? A crazed confection, dusted lightly with crumbled cranium; a zombie treat, they come for BRAIINZZZZ and stay for the obvious pains taken in the elegant preparation-- down to the very mode of serving: in severed torso (half-shell if you will) Now the hard sell: you've caught us in flagrante delecto--these cadaverous cookies elevate themselves above the pale rotting, misbegotten and forgotten dead; of course, any chef worth their trade samples their goods, so you must pick your fate: sample of your own free will or we'll hook you some other way (perhaps some zombie pate?)