Digestive cream

One day the lid of the biscuit box is suddenly whipped off. The
roundness of December air and warm noise assaults the senses as they
say, and then a handful of Londis confectionery items are emptied in.
And I will say it too. They lie there at strange angles, shifting
slightly. Groaning. But it will take days for them to settle into place
unless there is human intervention. Bobette the Bourbon, alone in the
corner and the only inhabitant, keeps quiet as is her wont. Listening
to .................

He is a totally mad fucker of a digestive. Someone to get your teeth
into. At first she had only been attracted by the placement of his
holes. A few hours later when all the others have stopped bickering,
he's still ranting . The anger comes out in an exaggerated stream, just
a few empathies short of psychotic.

"I am recycled. I deserve better than this. " he said "I have survived
being a ships biscuit. I have lived in Napoleon's pocket for god's
sake"

Once upon a time Bobette would have melted right away. But time passes
and makes its mark. Cooked things absorb waiting and she is a reject
biscuit with a corner missing.