part 317.2 of a novel: goodbye little plop

I did not buy a cookie. I bought a salami sandwich. I bought it from a man with a sack. He asked me, “What kind of sandwich would you like?” I said, “What do you have?” He said, “He had a variety of choices.” I said, “I like my chances. Pick me out a winner.” The man reached into his sack and picked out the salami. I gave him a dollar. This man did not have any cookies. There were no cookies. I called my sandwich a cookie. “Look at this cookie I am eating,” I said. Meat fell out and into the street. I did not pick it up. Half of it leaned up against the curve. I said, “Goodbye chocolate chip.”