Written/Created by: Matt
Posted on 9.01.03.

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Who is Cookie Puss? Probably the first and only ice cream cake from outer space, Carvel introduced the edible alien many years ago, as an addition to their "character cakes" collection. Cookie Puss joined up with such luminaries as "Fudgie the Whale" and the "Hug Me Bear" to give Carvel an edge on the competition -- anyone could sell an ice cream cake, but only Carvel sold Cookie Pusses. Still, one does have to wonder what it was exactly about this guy that made him such a long-lasting and universally championed dessert. Really: why Cookie Puss? Today, we examine the legend...


Now, obviously, the thing's an attention grabber. You don't pass Cookie Puss without becoming at least passively intrigued, and if you do, you're either blind or lead such an adventurous, interstellar life that not even an ice cream cake flanked with an ice cream cone nose and eyes the size of ice cream saucers can pique your curiosity. You're jaded. It takes a few concentrated stares to really figure out what Cookie Puss actually is, but once the epiphany hits, you'll never be the same. "Fudgie the Whale" never assaulted anyone's senses like this; it's no wonder Cookie Puss lead the Carvel character cakes pack.

Yes, it's supposed to be some kind of alien. That's not speculation -- several of the old commercial spots featured Cookie Puss, with an echoing, unearthly voice, flying through space and twirling his many tasty features amidst the stars. It's possible that Carvel wanted to suggest an all-American cake character who, by virtue of his sheer determination to be super excellent, learned to fly off the planet and breathe where oxygen doesn't exist. I've never known Carvel to be so in-depth with their origin stories, so I'm betting he's just supposed to be an alien. An alien you can eat. I liked Communion, but I would've loved Communion had I'd been afforded candy pages so I could eat the book after reading it. It's a phrase used all too common but... "Cookie Puss wins."

See the black, squiggly lines all over the creature's face? Those are his arms and legs. An ice cream cone perfectly transitions as a nose, while two vanilla saucers are topped with icing irises to form Cookie Puss' eyes. A jovial grin is painted on in the final step, making Cookie Puss the only alien who remains happy even while being eaten alive. This Puss don't puss. It's beastly, no doubt, but still somehow "cute." I guess there's a fine line between beauty and ugliness, and C.P. successfully rides it closer than any alien cake ever has before. As you'd suspect, Cookie Puss' past is riddled with mystery...

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After introducing himself, C.P. would fly around ice cream makers' heads, not at all challenged with the sight of seeing himself poured out into a cake mold. Cookie Puss understands his role, and the downsides of it: he's gotta commentate on slaughtered versions of himself being caketified. I don't know when the ball got rolling with this guy, but it was my standard birthday cake throughout childhood. A birthday wasn't a birthday if I wasn't blowing out candles affixed to Cookie Puss' mouth. Though big enough to serve many, I come from an especially big family -- my mother would get a Cookie Puss cake, but have to supplement with an another cake for the rest of the crowd. Personally, I never understood why she didn't just buy two Cookie Puss cakes. Toad.

Whatever, it's still pretty cool that there's an actual machine capable of pouring out Cookie Puss. It's the most entertaining birth ever -- babies coming out of women's crotches has nothing on a big silver robot that shits out Cookie Pusses. By the way, I didn't paste in that little C.P. head. That's really how the commercials went -- Cookie Puss flew around Carvel's staff, who typically paid little attention to the talking, alien cake doing floating headstands next to them. More toads.


They'd even show you the magic of Cookie Puss' creation. This was to illustrate the cake's amazing formula -- it wasn't just some ice cream and cookies shoved into a mold. Well, it was, but it just seemed more special this time around. Maybe it's the cone nose? Yeah, probably the cone nose.


Obviously, this was a cake to be reckoned with. You needed some serious hunger to make it through a single slice, as each included vanilla and chocolate ice cream, boatloads of cookie crumbs, more boatloads of icing, and the whole thing was thicker than even the busiest city's phone book. Sadly, Cookie Puss tends to melt a whole lot quicker than most ice cream cakes, so most of the time, a lot of his face went to waste. It's not the kind of cake you put back in the freezer immediately after cutting it, because let's face it, nobody wants to stop looking at Cookie Puss. On the dining room table he remained, a prisoner of immobility, tormented by the interrogating overhead lights. His death rarely came quick, but you know, he never stopped smiling.

The world could learn a thing or two from Cookie Puss. If not, they could always just eat him. Either way, he's worth the cash.


Oddly enough, no two Carvel stores ever seemed to sell identical Cookie Pusses. They looked a lot alike, but there was always something that made purveyors scratch their heads in fits of unfamiliarity. Compare the C.P. shown above to the one in the previous pictures. Note the new shifty eyes? The enhanced smile? The old lady hat? Amazingly, Cookie Puss manages to improve even on perfection. With luck, future varieties will come with two nose cones. And money.

Cookie Puss never retired, but it wasn't until recently that Carvel decided to bring him back into the fold in a big way. New, "old fashioned" advertisements were forged, with C.P. and that damn Fudgie the Whale telling you all about themselves. I took notice and grew progressively more nostalgic for those early birthdays spent with Cookie Puss, and while my next one isn't till Febooawee, I couldn't help myself. I had to have a Cookie Puss, and I had to have it now. No luck at the first two Carvel stores I checked, but duh, third time's the charm. I rushed home before C.P. could melt, grabbed the camera, and prepared to seethe with the wonders brought by edible alien cakes named Cookie Puss.


There he is, in his neat little window box. Fucker cost 18.99. Oh, I'm sure there's plenty of you out there who don't have Carvel stores -- I'm not sure if they're an east coast thing or what, but they're definitely not everywhere. You're probably wondering what purpose is served by reading an article about cakes you're not privy to. I see where you're coming from, but seriously, use the photos as a template to make your own Cookie Puss. The only thing better than the ones from Carvel are Cookie Pusses you've brought to life yourself. (John 3:15)


See? Again, Cookie Puss looks different. Now he's a little more...I dunno, "swishy?" The hair icing's been replaced by a rather phallic pool of whipped cream, dazzled with candy sprinkles. The eyes indicate a previous bout with epileptic seizures, and the whole thing just comes off a little too girly. I've always pegged C.P. as rather sexless, and don't want the long-standing belief toyed with by a nose full of rainbows and Red Riding Hood's mitts. This hasn't altered my fascinations any, but sure, I'm questioning my faith a little more. Sorry Carvel.


Oh no...this is the tough part. I've been avoiding this, but really, you can't fully experience Cookie Puss unless you kill him. That's only half the trouble, though. See, you could technically get away with slicing around C.P.'s "meatier" parts, arguing that he didn't need that blank part of the left side of his head anyway. Cookie Puss could live on -- injured, but living. It never works out that way. Cookie Puss' most desired parts are also his most crucial. Can you think of any kid who wouldn't want to rip off his eyes and nose first? Without those, Cookie Puss is nothing. Just a misshapen cake without a soul. A freak. A misfit. Not a Cookie Puss.


The transformation is hideous. You'll feel guilty, but don't fret -- the world's tastiest comfort food will be right there in front of you. Move on; there's always another Cookie Puss. I guess what I'm trying to say is...don't grow too attached. In the great sea of Cookie Pusses, this is but one of many. In a strange, roundabout way, the more Cookie Pusses you eat, the more Cookie Pusses will be born. Like Clown Piano Man says, the sir-her-cull of life, baby.

Note: he's still smiling. Yeah, yeah, yeah.


"Who wants an eye?" "I'll take his nose!" The conversations that surrounded an evening spent with Cookie Puss were always interesting, and truthfully, the malicious-sounding crap that'll pour from a family's mouth while eating C.P. cannot be duplicated with any other dessert. Why must we destroy what we love so much? Are we masochistic, or just hungry? I don't know the answers, but I still love me some Cookie Puss. Once you experience him, so shall you too. Amen.

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