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R.I.P.
It is with a heavy heart that I write these words today: Cookie Morris is dead. I remember when Cookie first came to my office to read for a part in one of my earlier, less mature works, Lawrence of A Labia.
It was near the end of the day, and I had been through literally hundreds of read-throughs with various actresses. Then in walks this doe-eyed vixen with an unapologetic case of pink-eye and enough attitude to carry Brooklyn on her back. She read from the scene in which Lawrence and the Arabs are threatening to bukkake all over a captured Turkish prisoner unless she gives them some ass-to-mouth. Well, if you knew Cookie, you know happened next: She's all into it and we're setting up piston shots, upskirts and down-blouse angles and then the camera starts to roll and she breaks right into a soliloquy from Cecil Brown's 1969 classic, The Life and Loves of Mr. Jiveass Nigger.
"What the fuck," I thought to myself, then said it out loud. "That's not in the script." Then another try and the same damn thing. Some people just freeze up when the camera's on. It's not a character flaw, it just happens. I mean, hell, we all know Cookie could take a triple-anal or sit for a 48 hour gang-bang session with the best of them, but something about the camera just froze her up, and to be honest, a 5'2" white girl from Topeka quoting from The Life and Loves of Mr. Jiveass Nigger while going all-holes-filled is a tough sell to even the freakiest of freaks.
But, I knew Cookie had something (besides just about every STD known to man and that mysterious thing where if it dipped below 50 degrees, her vagina would burp the rondo from Mozart's Sonata in A.). We decided that while she was a disaster on film, she might make a good fluffer. So we contracted her out for Anal Gang Bang 4 (The Rending)" and boy did she step up.
After three out of our five fluffers came down with cowpox, we were hamstrung. Well, Cookie was one to seize an opportunity when she saw it. After noticing that a large percentage of our $25/day gang-bangers were over in the corner, fretting over their now half-hard, folding wangs, she rushed over and went to work. I swear, you hear these stories that people tell about Keith Moon or John Bonham and how they must have had a third arm tucked away or something: Nobody played that fast. That was Cookie. She fluffed like nobody before--it was like watching the godamned Tasmanian Devil.
Within minutes, all my gang-bang actors were at full mast and ready for the final scene. It was unbelievable (The 5th fluffer lost heart after seeing Cookie's handiwork and ran off, presumably to cry. You know, I tell my daughter she's never going to get in to Stanford if she can't see her way through a challenge, but what can I say? She takes after her mother). Hell, I admit to shedding a tear after Cookie came through in the clutch like that. And it wasn't just that one time; Cookie devoured the art of fluffing--devoured it like, well, a penis, I guess.
Of course, like anybody with an intense passion, she was misunderstood.
Often times her charitable work with the Montessori school system goes overlooked. People tend to focus on the trial, the media frenzy and the lawsuits, when all Cookie was trying to do was keep her little soldiers at attention, both physically and mentally. You can't ask an artist to abandon their craft, to suit their behavior to a certain situation. No, you can't. And this is why at my son's Bar Mitzvah, we all just had to have a good, hearty laugh when somebody announced that the band was playing a little flat and Cookie just waltzed right up on stage and ironed out the problem. Sgt. Pepper's--eat your fucking heart out! You've never seen a band more "on."
If there has ever been anybody on this Earth who I could characterize as having a "calling," it would have to be Cookie and then maybe Michaelangelo.
Her demise yesterday comes as no surprise to us all, I'm sure. You just can't sustain that kind of intensity over a long period of time. I told Cookie that things weren't the same south of the border, but she was always pushing, scratching, clawing for more, more, more. "Donkey-bang, Schmonkey-bang," she'd chortle, like a petite, fellatio-mad Falstaff, "I could keep the almighty Odin sprung!" (admittedly, her interest in Norse mythology was a colossal pain in the ass). But, like the saying goes, it's better to burn out than to fade away. Cookie, may your star shine brilliant in the night, while flights of angels sing you to that great heaven for people who give pre-gang-bang blowjobs in the sky...
You were the greatest cocksucking fluffer I've ever seen.
I couldn't view the first paragraph at the time of my reading, this was an enjoyable tale for my monday morning.
I had to stop for a few to say " the 5th fluffer", sort of a tongue twister, but hell I'm reading this article with one hand over my left eye to help me focus.
more work goes on behind the camera than most will ever know.
Posts: 65 Rank: 98 Joined:
7/12/2007
Location:
Buffalo, NY
Posted: 7/30/2007 8:51:38 AM
It wasn't shit-my-pants funny, but it was alright. I'm not exactly sure what the connection is with the donkey picture, was she parshall to the donkey punch perhaps?
Posts: 20 Rank: 113 Joined:
7/27/2007
Location:
Detroit, MI
Posted: 7/30/2007 9:16:33 AM
Ever since ole' Cookie clapped on me way back in '99 I haven't thought much about her except when the drips get so bad I need a diaper. But needless to say the family reunions haven't been the same since. It took this article to truly make me realize how much I missed my sister. RIP Cookie, mom dad and I love you for all of eternity.
Posts: 452 Rank: 28 Joined:
4/23/2007
Location:
Jackson, MI
Posted: 7/30/2007 9:54:58 AM
The article was not as funny as I need for my Monday mornings, but it is always nice to read such a tale of true heroism. It brought a happy tear to my eye.
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