The Way the Cookie Falls Apart Messily

I didn't really understand much that had been happening lately; not that I overstood it much better but it seemed to make more sense that way. At any rate, my parents, that is to say my mother and father, had split up recently, not more than ten years ago, and it had boggled both my mind and brain both. They had been such a happy couple for so long (like, a while) that it was almost not very conceivable that it had actually happened, the split up that is, since that's all I've been talking about so far. Once they had gone their separate ways, I was left behind with no one left to turn to. So there I was, alone for good, with no one left to turn to. It all boiled down to the fact that I had no one, once I had been left behind by my parents (mom and dad), that I could turn to once, but now I couldn't.
With that said, the next day I applied for a job at the local coffee shop. I was thinking about, maybe, applying to the one a couple cities over, but then it wouldn't have been local, and I found, once I thought about it for longer than three seconds, that the locality of the one that I had applied to the next day was actually pretty important to me. So I went to the local one, and applied. After two more days of waiting (that's three now, after the split up not more than ten years ago) they finally contacted me via the telephone (I thought it might have been rotary but the tone was definitely the other one, the one that wasn't rotary) and asked me if I would please enjoy coming in to the coffee shop again and answer some questions that they wanted me to answer, so I did. I went down and the manager came and asked me to sit down and I thought to myself then, that would be great if that was the only question I had to answer here, but, glassily, it was not. With that spoken of, the manager sat me down and asked if I had ever worked in a coffee shop before and I answered no, but I don't really like coffee that much, except mocha. The manager laughed and reminded me of both my mother and father at the same time, but kind of differently, otherwise it'd be weird.
Needless to say, I like mocha colored horses. The small ones, ponies, not the bigger ones, donkeys. With that told, the helicopter ride was almost imbearable. I saw only one bear the entire time and that's the only thing that kept it from being totally unbearable, since there was one, not none. That bear had been riding a horse pony and so I thought that maybe I'd count that as seeing two bears, since there was definitely one, and I liked ponies. Without warning, I leapt from the far arm of the davenport and dove to the ground so hard that my teeth stang. The stanging of my tooth on the left side of my mouth snapped me back to present and forced me to think long and hard about whether or not polo or croquet or cricket was better on the knees, since both bears and ponies each both have at least four. It didn't matter much because, like I said, I don't really like coffee much, just espresso.
I didn't get the job, needless to say, but, obviously I said it anyway, that way you'd know for fact that it was serious. I blamed my parents, by which this time I'm referring to my sister and children, for not getting the job. It was terrible, but I suppose that's the way the cookie falls apart messily; with those crumb things that are bigger than crumbs but smaller than chunks; those things.