That's the Way the Cookie Crumbles

"$500 to whoever bakes the largest cookie in town"

I stared at the newspaper headline, unsure what to think about this. My friends and I were hanging out near one of the Starbucks in town. It was Victoria, Lauren, Isabel, Cas, and I. We discussed the possibility of entering this contest but didn't come to a consensus on the benefit of making the "largest cookie".

"Think about it: it's fun, delicious, and a group activity to which we can know each other." Said Victoria as she expressed happiness with utmost care about the contest. "I don't know," I said uncertainly. Why should we enter into something that we accomplish? How does "the largest cookie" benefit everybody? I wasn't much of a cookie person, but I was a bit keen on working with my friends to make them proud.

"I suggest we plan a schedule at one of our houses before the contest is over." Lauren was quite right on that one. If we stay organized and plan our moves very precisely, our odds of winning the contest are greater than being unorganized. "I have cookie dough that I can bring over," Isabel added to our conversation.

"Alright alright, I can see us potentially winning this, but I need your word, everyone," I said looking at each of my friends before I got up from the table and grabbed my backpack. "I'll shoot you all a text tonight and we can start tomorrow." With that, I walked away feeling butterflies in my stomach as if I just jumped off a diving board. Christmas is supposed to be a wonderful time to get together with friends and enjoy the community. It's not about presents or food. I wanted to stay connected with them, but I was so keen on entering this contest because: I don't know how to bake cookies, and I'm not much of a cookie person to enjoy this. Nevertheless, I agreed to this with ambition and certainty.

Later tonight, I signed out a form online entering my friends and me into the slots as I begin sending messages to everyone. Lauren was the first to respond, then Isabel, then Cas, and Victoria. We soon engaged in a conversation about going over to Victoria's house and bringing the ingredients to make the cookie. I soon arrived at Victoria's house and saw what looked like 20 cookie dough cans spread on the table, next to sprinkles, icing, a pan, and a tinfoil sheet. "This is impossible," I said thinking how we can manage to make a large cookie. It seems absurd and difficult compared to say making 50 servings of cookies at a Christmas party.

I exhaled and put on a smile before taking a seat. Isabel started working on opening the cookie dough cans along with Lauren, Cas, and me. The smell of the dough quickly filled the air as a sense of nostalgia hit me with memories of waking up on Christmas morning and opening presents. My mind began to settle down as I scooped out batches of cookie dough and piled them onto the pan. Isabel and the other's pursuit until we emptied out all the cans. What appeared before us was a large pile of cookie dough. It resembled a mountain filled with chocolate kisses and sprinkles coating it with both joy and passion.

"I think this can work," I commented on the large cookie dough pile. Both Victoria and Isabel began to process the cookie by sculpting it with cookie tools to maintain that perfect sphere shape. I don't know how, but they pulled it off magnificently. Our time over at Victoria's house was approximately 3 hours. I found myself sleeping on the couch while Cas, Lauren, Isabel, and Victoria herself worked on the cookie. I had a dream where I was at the state fair. I browsed everybody's cookies and they seemed to be very small; then, I saw my group's cookie and my jaw dropped. It was the size of a house. The most gigantic cookie you can ever comprehend. The next thing I know, everybody was applauding us for our work and I held up a trophy bearing a cookie. On it inscribed: "First place for making the world's largest cookie". Before anything else happened, I woke up startled as I rubbed my eyes.

"Noah come look!" Victoria exclaimed with excitement. I got up from the couch, getting a grip of my surroundings, as I turn around the kitchen room. What I saw made my heart drop before my blood ran cold. On the table was a large cookie. If I could compare it, it'd be the size of a TV. "H-how!?" I raised my voice in shock. "Well, it wasn't easy but we managed to get the shape good while increasing its size," Lauren explained. "Yeah, it took almost all of the cookie dough cans to build this baby." Bragged Cas.

I couldn't believe it. My friends actually managed to pull off the impossible. Was it a dream or is this an illusion? After all those moments of doubt and uncertainty, my friends proved to me how capable and committed they are. I felt tears leaking from my eyes as I begin to cry happily. "It's beautiful..." I complimented their work. Victoria and Isabel comforted me as I calmed down and sniffled. "Well, I can't believe that I'm gonna say this, but... good job guys. I'm sorry I underestimated you all and this contest." A glimmer of hope sparkled within me.

The next day my group and I attended the fair to display our work of art. Every guest that walked by complimented how authentic, original, and excellent the cookie was. From my perspective, I saw other people's work and compared their cookies to mine. Needless to say, I think my group succeeded because before everybody settled down a man in a suit got up on stage with the microphone.

"Alright, everybody! Welcome to the annual Christmas Fair! This year's fair was to see how big of a cookie you can make. After several observations, our judges have come to a conclusion on who will win this year's fair. The winner is... Victoria, Isabel, Cas, Lauren, and Noah! Congratulations!" Just like that, I felt my knees weak and shaking. The air was filled with applause and my friends jumped up in joy as they hugged each other in victory. For me, I joined in with passion and a feeling that today was the best day of my life. I grabbed our trophy and held it up high for everyone to see it. Never in my life have I felt powerful and proud of my friends, me, and cookies. As the saying goes: That's the way the cookie crumbles...