Cookies of Doom

Charles Bayne was a man of great power within The Bloody Baker Mafia. While nearly unheard of prior to Bayne, ever since his takeover, the criminal organization has been on the rise. With the Bloody Bakers raking in the dough, Bayne was lulled into a sense of false security, content with loafing around his immodest home. But with his great success, there were many in the organization who felt they deserved a bigger slice of the pie, so to speak, and had cooked up plans to eliminate Charles Bayne. With him out of the way, gaining full control of the Bloody Bakers would be a piece of cake.

One such member of the Bloody Bakers, bent on bringing Bayne his just desserts was none other than Dennis Drewl, Bayne’s right-hand man. With the assistance of his longtime companion and partner in crime, Marcus, he busied himself preparing for a most fiendish gathering: a cookie exchange party.

“So you see,” began Dennis, “I will host a cookie exchange party at a rented venue. Can’t risk holding it at my home, on account of our last assassination attempt.”

“Hey, that one wasn’t my fault; I got caught in traffic,” said Marcus defensively.

“It’s no fault of yours, Marcus,” replied Dennis. “Besides, even after surviving the bomb that went off in my home, he didn’t seem to suspect a thing. So no harm was done to our plans.” Dennis began pacing around the room as he delivered his master plan.

“Mr. Bayne is a careful man, but one thing he has never been able to resist is a well-baked cookie. I propose that we invite him and nine other of our fellow Bloody Bakers to the party. When they arrive, I’ll offer Mr. Bayne a cookie from my batch, but little will he know that my cookies have been poisoned!”

“A clever plan, my friend,” replied Marcus, “but as you said yourself, Mr. Bayne is extremely cautious. He will not take the first cookie for fear of it being poisoned. How will we get him to eat it?”

“Good question,” said Dennis. “He simply will not eat it, unless one of us eats it first. The poison I plan to use is slow-acting, which will give me plenty of time to take the antidote before I succumb.”

“Nice idea,” said Marcus, “And what of the other party members?”

“They’ll be in on the plan too, Marcus,” replied Dennis. “Of course, some of them will need to try my poisoned cookies, or else Mr. Bayne will grow suspicious.”

“That’s great,” responded Marcus, “but there’s another flaw in that plan. How will we all manage to sneak away to drink the antidote without arousing his suspicion?”

“We won’t,” said Dennis, “for the cure will be inside another batch of cookies, one that you will bake.”

“Okay, let’s say everything goes as planned, and that we get him to eat the poison cookie” Marcus said, “but then what? What’s stopping Mr. Bayne from eating any of my cookies?”

“That is…” began Dennis before stopping mid-sentence, “...a fair point. I haven’t quite figured that part out yet.”

Marcus sighed. “Why can’t we just shoot him instead of cooking up another overcomplicated plan? Don’t you remember what happened last time at the scone factory?”

“I’ve learned my lesson since then, Marcus,” said Dennis. “Besides, how was I supposed to have prepared for a baking soda explosion? The Scone Incident was definitely not my fault!”

“Right…” said Marcus. “Well, I’ll be heading home now. If you somehow think of a way to keep Bayne from eating the curative cookies, give me a call.” And with that, Marcus Earl left. He would visit a bar before heading home. Marcus figured he deserved a drink after sitting through another one of Dennis Drewl’s disastrous schemes in the making.

Dennis did call him early that next morning, though his voice was too loud and his speech too fast for Marcus to process, considering his drinking the night before. He hung up the phone, deciding that if Dennis had something important to tell him, he would call back around noon. Marcus didn’t consider himself to be very smart, but if there was one thing he knew, it was Mr. Drewl's patterns. Sure enough, at 11:45, Dennis called again.

“Marcus, this is very important,” began Dennis, “I’ve found the cookie recipe you need to bake!”

“We’re still going through with this plan of yours then?” said Marcus.

“Of course we are!” said Dennis. “Don’t I always follow a plan through to the very end?”

“You do,” Marcus admitted, then mumbled “for better or for worse,” away from the speaker so that Dennis wouldn’t hear that last part.

“Anyways,” Dennis continued, “the solution became clear to me after I burned a batch of my favorite oatmeal raisin cookies. Before you say it, yes I know that oatmeal-raisin is considered the least popular type of cookie. As it turns out, its unpopularity was what inspired the final part of my poison cookie plot.”

“Where exactly are you going with this?” questioned Marcus.

“Quite simply, Mr. Bayne is a connoisseur of cookies,” said Dennis. “He will know good flavors from bad, and refuse to touch cookies which he dislikes. If we are going to cure ourselves with cookies and ensure that he will not eat those cookies, we must bake a batch of the most vile, disgusting, and outright inedible cookies possible, ensuring that Bayne never so much as touches one!”

“That… just might work,” replied Marcus, “but what kind of cookie is so horrifying that even the great Charles Bayne refuses to eat it?” 

Dennis chuckled maniacally to himself. “I have found just the recipe: Ketchup-Raisin Cookies, coated in a lemon glaze!”

Marcus, who was eating a sandwich at the time, nearly spat the bologna out his mouth at the mere mention of ketchup-raisin cookies. “Did.. did you really say ketchup-raisin cookies with lemon glazing?”

“Yes,” he said.

“What… what in the world? Who would invent such a recipe?! It’s downright sickening it is!” ranted Marcus, still processing what he had just heard.

“I have no clue what sick individual invented this recipe,” said Dennis, “but if we’re to have a chance at killing Charles Bayne, you must bake these cookies! Oh, and maybe throw some chopped onions in for good measure.”

“... Are you sure we can’t just shoot him?” mumbled a concerned Marcus. “Shooting him would be far less gut-wrenching than the scent these cookies will leave in my apartment.”

“Sacrifices must be made for the greater good, Marcus! Or in this case, the greater evil,” said Dennis, followed by an evil laugh that, from the perspective of Marcus, went on for an entire minute.

Everything was put into place. There was no way this plan could go wrong, at least, according to how the events played out in Dennis’s mind. He was so confident in fact, that instead of opting for his usual poison, which went straight to the heart, he used a paralytic drug which would simply stop Bayne from moving, allowing Dennis the maximum amount of time to gloat before killing him directly. And why shouldn’t he gloat? Charles had made him the laughing stock of the Bloody Bakers, always ridiculing his plans, always assigning him the most tedious and boring of jobs, always joking that he and Marcus were, in his own words “the most expendable of the Bakers”. To Dennis, this was personal. After this cookie exchange party, Charles Bayne would never underestimate the devious Dennis Drewl again! (Because he would be dead, obviously.)

To say that Dennis Drewl’s assassination attempt had been botched in every possible way would be an understatement. To explain how, it would be best to start with an exchange between Dennis and Mr. Charles Bayne, upon arriving at the venue.

“Well Dennis, I’ve made it, despite your convoluted directions,” said Bayne. “You’ve never been one to do things the easy way, have you? Makes for some hilarious stories though.”

“Ah, Mr. Bayne,” said Dennis, ignoring his comment. “I hope you’re prepared for an unforgettable cookie exchange!”

“Right, right,” said Bayne. “Anyways, here are the cookies I made. Please make sure they are in a suitable location. I’m looking forward to trying your own cookies, Mr. Drewl.”

“My… cookies. Yes, excuse me for one moment.” Dennis went off to find Marcus. Coincidentally, Marcus was also looking for Dennis.

“Dennis, I need your help,” said Marcus. “The other guests are bickering. The ones who have to eat the poisoned cookies don’t want to anymore.”

“What? Why not?” said Dennis.

“Well, they just assumed that everyone was going to have to eat them, and since that’s not the case, they’re arguing that it’s unfair for them to risk their lives while others don’t,” said Marcus.

“Oh I see,” said Dennis. “In that case, just have them play a game for it. Some sort of raffle or card game will do. We have much bigger things to worry about right now.”

“Right, your cookies. Are those yours?” said Marcus, gesturing towards the cookie batch Mr. Bayne had given Dennis.

“No, these belong to Mr. Bayne; he just arrived, and I’m going to need you to keep him occupied for a bit,” said Dennis. “I may have… left my cookies in my oven back home.”

 “You what!?” exclaimed Marcus.

“Not so loud, Marcus!” said Dennis, at almost the exact same volume.

“Why in the world would you do such a thing, Dennis?” said Marcus, now in a hushed tone.

“I thought I was being efficient by keeping them warm, but then I forgot,” said Dennis. “I need you to stall Mr. Bayne long enough for me to drive back to my house, grab the cookies and poison, and come back. Can you do that?”

“Um, I think so,” said Marcus, growing increasingly nervous.

“Good,” said Dennis. 

With that, Dennis passed off Mr. Bayne’s cookies and scurried off through the back door. He ran around the building, hopping into his car the moment Mr. Bayne was away from the front entrance. He drove all the way home, ran through the front door and into his kitchen. On the bright side, he drove fast enough to avoid burning down his entire house. On the not so bright side however, he wasn’t nearly fast enough to save his beloved oatmeal-raisin cookies from becoming charred lumps of coal.

“Egad! My batch is ruined!” yelled Dennis, to nobody in particular. Without any cookies, it seemed like his plan was ruined. But then, Dennis had an idea. A delightfully devilish idea at that. Without wasting a second, he hopped back into his car and drove to the nearest supermarket.

He returned to the party much later than intended. By the time he had returned with his "homemade" oatmeal-raisin cookies, the guests were locked in a heated game of Go-Fish. (Truth be told, Dennis had no idea how to play any sort of card game, and couldn't tell you the difference between Blackjack and Solitaire.)

"You're back," exclaimed Marcus. "Thank goodness. The card game is keeping them busy. Where are your cookies?"

"Change of plans, Marcus," said Dennis. "I need just a little more time to prepare them. Keep our guests distracted just a little bit longer."

Dennis ran off somewhere in the building, leaving Marcus with the party members yet again. It took nearly all his effort to keep the party playing cards in a calm and orderly fashion (as well as keep himself calm), so he didn't notice when Mr. Bayne got up to find the bathroom. Unfortunately for him, he had no idea where the bathroom was. Unfortunately for Dennis, this lead Mr. Bayne right to where he was prepping his poisonous cookies. 

It all happened so fast, yet every second moved in slow motion for Dennis. First, the door was flung open. Next, Bayne stepped through. Then, he locked eyes with Dennis, who at that very moment, was dumping a boxful of oatmeal-raisin cookies onto a platter. That act alone wasn’t suspicious though, rather it was the wine bottle sitting next to the platter, the one labeled “POISON” that gave his plan away. (Dennis always made sure to label his poisons well, just in case he ever misplaced a poison vial and mistook it for a beverage. Dennis’s poison labels had saved his life on a number of occasions. This, however, was not one of those occasions.)

“Dennis!” exclaimed Charles Bayne. “What on earth do you think you are doing?!”

“Mr. Bayne!” stuttered Dennis. “I can assure you that there’s a perfectly rational explanation for this.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” said Bayne, moving closer to Dennis. “To think you stoop so low; it’s disgraceful!”

“Please, Mr. Bayne,” said Dennis, hoping to stop him before he got any closer. “Let’s not jump to any conclusions here.”

“Oh, I don’t have to, Mr. Drewl,” said Bayne, continuing forward until he was right in Dennis’s face. “For I’ve just caught you red-handed!”

Dennis was frozen in fear. He didn’t dare speak, nor move from his position. He simply watched as Mr. Bayne reached forward, his hand like a viper, and snatched the box from his hands. Bayne looked at the back of the box.

“Store-bought cookies?” sighed Mr. Bayne. “Really now, Dennis? You thought I wouldn’t notice the difference? You’re a disgrace to the Bakers.”

“I’m… I’m what?” said a dumbfounded Dennis.

“We’re called the Bloody Bakers for a reason, Mr. Drewl,” said Mr. Bayne “We can’t simply be buying our cookies from every supermarket we come across, now can we? Our cookies are far beyond what any supermarket could provide!”

“That’s what you’re angry about? The fact that I purchased these cookies and tried to disguise them as my own?” said Dennis, growing increasingly confused.

“Of course I am!” said Mr. Bayne. “For a Bloody Baker to buy low-quality cookies such as these is an absolute disgrace.”

“Well that’s a relief,” said Dennis.

“Oh, don’t think I’m letting you off the hook for this, Mr. Drewl,” said Mr. Bayne. “There will be consequences for this! And of all the cookies you could have gotten, you had to buy oatmeal-raisin.”

“Well, um, actually sir, I quite like oatmeal-raisin,” quietly mumbled Dennis.

“Honestly, for snickerdoodles or macaroons I could understand, but oatmeal-raisin? How ridiculous!” sneered Mr. Bayne.

“Mr. Bayne, sir, I don’t think it’s that bad of a cookie type…” said Dennis.

“Even chocolate chip cookies would have been better than oatmeal-raisin,” continued Bayne. “Sure, they’re basic, but at least they taste the way a cookie should.”

“Mr. Bayne, I really do think that-” began Dennis.

“I tell you, Dennis, I’d much rather have whatever horrid batch Marcus turned out. Ketchup-raisin with lemon glazing sounds disgusting, but at least it has flavor and originality,” said Mr. Bayne. “The same cannot be said for oatmeal-raisin.”

This was Dennis Drewl’s breaking point. “Now listen here, Charles!” roared Dennis. “I’ll have you know that oatmeal-raisin cookies are one of the pillars of cookie-baking!”

“Oh great,” said Mr. Bayne. “Is this going to another one of your wild rants about how oatmeal-raisin is underappreciated?”

“Why yes it is,” said Dennis, “and I’ve prepared an entire speech this time. Hope you’re ready, because you’ve brought this upon yourself!”

“I need a drink for this. It’s the only way any of this speech is going to make sense,” said Mr. Bayne, grabbing two shot glasses and a nearby wine bottle, pouring the contents into a glass without bothering to check the label.

“We’re going to be here a while, Mr. Bayne, so you’d better pour me one too,” said Dennis. Mr. Bayne obliged, pouring him a drink as Dennis began his oatmeal-raisin speech, lasting nearly a full half-hour. The minutes dragged for Charles Bayne. He poured drink after drink, and still Dennis would not stop talking. He felt as if he were dying, and could not stand to listen to listen to another word. Little did he know that this statement was true both literally and metaphorically. For when Mr. Bayne made to get up, he could not move. All he could do was barely tilt his head, enough to see the words “POISON” written on the wine bottle he had been drinking from.

“... and furthermore, oatmeal-raisin cookies are delicious! End of discussion!” finished Mr. Dennis Drewl. “Now what do you have to say to that, Bayne?” 

Mr. Bayne could not respond, for his heart had stopped working a full two minutes ago. “Hello? Mr. Bayne?” said Dennis, waving a hand in front of his still face. It was at this point that Marcus burst into the room.

“Dennis, there’s a problem,” began Marcus. “Mr. Bayne is gone, and I can’t stall the other party members any longer and- hold on a moment. Did you actually kill Charles Bayne?”

“D-Did I?” said Dennis, feeling Mr. Bayne for a pulse, and grinning ear to ear when he found none. “I did. I’ve done it. I’ve finally killed the old fool! I, Dennis Drewl, am now the supreme leader of the Bloody Bakers!”

“Well done, Dennis,” praised Marcus. “I’ll admit I had my doubts about this plan, but it all worked out in the end.”

“This calls for a drink, wouldn’t you say?” said Dennis gleefully. He turned to grab the shot glasses and wine bottle, only to realize what he and Bayne had been drinking. His giddiness rapidly turned to dread. He hadn’t drank nearly as much as the late Mr. Bayne, but any amount could be lethal.

“Um, Marcus, my good friend?” said Dennis.

“Yes, Dennis?” said Marcus.

“Please fetch me a ketchup-raisin cookie with lemon glazing,” Dennis said before collapsing to the floor.