I. THE INCIDENT

In the following chapters I will share with you the story of a rather curious incident which occurred in the apartment shared by the Gazette members some time during the recording of their Album _____. They would usually share this flat then, since it was in close proximity to the studio and allowed for a tight schedule and efficient work distribution. It also contributed to an increased tension between the men, since they were stuck on top of each other in the studio and were still stuck with each other once they got home. Everybody looked forward to returning to their own homes, but until then developed more or less efficient methods of stress release, anger management and relaxation.

It was during one of these sessions, in the middle of a recording, where the incident occurred that would later be called “cookie-jar” incident.

Late in November that particular year the story begins.

In Retrospect: you couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment which lead to Kai becoming somewhat addicted to sugar. As I already said, one way or another each of them had found ways to cope with stress. Only for Kai, it didn’t stop with stress. Before long he ate sugar when he couldn’t concentrate. And well.. that was scientifically proven to work, right? A couple of cookies while planning the schedule, when practising the drums, when doing his accounting... But it added up. A cookie with breakfast, a good-night cookie, a midnight munch, a cookie after a successful day, two cookies after a disappointing one. All in all Kai discovered that he could work really efficiently with a cookie-merit-system. He was glad, that none of his friends had worked this out yet. Otherwise they could have manipulated him easily to their advantage. His dependency on the sweet stuff grew. And so, knowing what you now know, on this fateful evening, Kai’s reaction was if not understandable, comprehendible.*

Treason! The dark haired drummer furrowed his brows and bit his lips while his arm was stuck in a cookie jar and his hand fumbled within it but without success. It was empty. He blinked, trying to calm himself. It had been a very stressful day, he was tired, his nerves had been unduely strained during band practise and all he wanted now was a pile of cookies. And his bed. He collected his thoughts. This was his private stash. It was well hidden in his bedroom drawer. He was quite certain he had stocked it up before the recordings began so he was sure to always have some when he came home. His thoughts were short, abrupt and forcibly calm so he would not start screaming and tearing apart the apartment. Someone, who in the very near future will be very -VERY- sorry, has stolen from my private stash! He inhaled deeply, lips pressed together to suppress his rising anger. This was exactly why he owned a private stash in the first place. Nothing edible was save around this group of omnivores, who had no sense of personal property (including toothbrushes). If there was food it was prey. Kai had discovered that very early in their friendship when his priced collection of homemade petit fours had been devoured without grace by his friends before they had even cooled. But now this. He drummed the fingers of his free hand against his bedside table while the other remained stuck deep in the exquisite porcelain jar. Why couldn't they buy they own sweets? Admittedly, his own homemade double chocolate ones were unmatched by any industrial production- but that was entirely beside the point. He rubbed his hand over his lips, another nervous gesture. He needed sugar or he would snap.

One would not expect Kai, shy, lovely, calm, modest, sensitive, sensible Kai to react quite like this. It was simple maths really. He could only function as the calm and sensible leader because he could relax after a long day. And relaxation included cookies. His mind continued to revolve around his empty cookie jar. But he soon came to the conclusion that it wasn't about the fact that the cookies were gone. He couldn't change that. It was about the whodunnit! Images of his colleagues flashed before his eyes and he tried, with will power alone, to manifest the culprit. He the leftover crumbs from his fingers. They were all his fingers had been able to extract from the bottom of the jar. Shaking his head he got up and replaced the jar into the drawer. No use! I am the first one home today, the others went out for a drink. Therefore the cookies must been gone since yesterday. Or? Could anyone have come in here this morning? And who the hell..?

He couldn't concentrate. For the life of it he wanted to strangle the thief. With a grunt of desperation he grabbed his jacket and stomped out of the apartment to venture out to his favoured delicatessen shop and grab a new supply of cookies there. He had neither nerves nor time to bake, himself. Unfortunately, that shop was halfway across town. A cap was out of the question, rush hour. Which left only subway. In general he wouldn't mind so much, but now he would have to change twice, probably being jammed into the wagon with way too many people, way too close. And the wretched rain that had been pouring for days was only the top of the iceberg. So for the next 45minutes he had plenty of time to talk himself into a rage about his cookies, their disappearance, the thief, the treachery and betrayal. When he finally reached the store, soaked wet to the bone it was closed due to illness. His jaw dropped. You got to be kidding. He was close to just hammering furiously against the door