Unholy Christmas Cookies

       The Olde One. The wicked leader of all things dark and unholy. The Chosen One who would lead the forces of darkness and evil to bring down all goodness in the world. The ancient supreme being from another realm who- according to unholy scripture- would burn down the churches, terminate the Vatican, and abolish all the governments of the world. There was only one way to bring the Olde One out from the depths of the wretched caves he lived in.

             Great God in heaven- the man loved Christmas cookies.

             The ancient leader who embodied each of the seven deadly sins could not be coaxed by women, gold, or narcissism- only with warm dough baked with copious amounts of sugar and cinnamon.

             “Oh, honey,” my mom said when she walked into the kitchen, “you’re baking cookies for the church Christmas exchange. How great!”

             The woman had feared my darkness and proclivity for all things horrid- she also wasn’t a fan of my dyed black hair and eyeliner, always saying “Sixteen-year-old boys should be out playing football or worshiping Jesus, not listening to men yelling into microphones!” she didn’t get it.

             “Yes, mother,” I said in a dark voice- she didn’t realize that the end of the world was coming to the Sacred Baptist Church Christmas cookie exchange. I was making a batch of the best damn cookies His Unholiness would ever taste.

             My Southern Baptist mother looked at the cheerful platter of snickerdoodles, cookies shaped like Christmas trees with green and red sugar coating the top, and those little peanut butter cookies with chocolate drops pressed into the center.

             “Aw,” she said helping herself to one of the snickerdoodles with a dusting of cinnamon, “Pastor Dave and his wife are going to love these!” She took another bite and looked at me, “Oh. Hun, you aren’t going to wear that emo outfit tomorrow night at the exchange- are ya?”

             “It’s not emo, mom!” I shouted back. “This is a representation of all things unholy and you are going to get a massive surprise when these wicked baked goods bring The Olde One to your little Baptist community.”

             Mother shook her head with a smirk, “At least wear something festive for your little ‘unholy master’ tomorrow night,” she said condescendingly. I couldn’t wait for the Dark One to drag her to hell first.

----

             That night, I joined the chatroom of others who wanted to bring darkness on my smartphone.

             “I baked a menagerie of sugary delights for The Olde One to come to my mom’s church’s baked goods exchange. I really hope he shows up tomorrow night.”

             A number of replies were messaged back to my line. DarkLord666 texted, “Good luck, he didn’t show up to my mom’s party last Christmas.” Unholyuser666 said, “I hope you made them good enough for the Olde One. I can't wait to watch the news about a Baptist church getting slaughtered by our lord tomorrow!” Satanicbongrip666 said, “I can’t wait to smoke a bowl and eat Christmas cookies with the Olde One once he brings Hell on earth!!!!”

             I texted back, my username proudly displayed as UpsideDownCross666 with a message reading, “I’ll tell you guys all about it tomorrow night if he hasn’t destroyed the world already.”

             I logged off right as Threesixes666 wrote back with, “Fuck yeah, bro!”

             I was too excited to sleep, I sent a prayer to His Unholiness begging him to show up to the Sacred Baptists Church Christmas Cookie Exchange with the promise of the best-baked sweets he would ever taste.

             I finally dozed off around 3am- the Witching Hour- and had dreams full of destruction and sin.

-----

             “Oh, honey,” my mom said, “Please just wear the sweater I bought you today. You don’t always have to wear black.”

             “No, mom!” I shouted back, “This is a representation of my soul.”

             “if you don’t wear the sweater, I’ll make you walk to the cookie exchange.”

             I reluctantly agreed to wear the ugly green sweater with snowmen and trees. It was too cold to walk the three miles to the church. I didn’t think the Olde One would mind if I wore a Christmas sweater when he arrived.

             We showed up at the church at six pm sharply. The multipurpose room was adorned in red, green, and white Christmas decorations with posters saying “He is born.” The room also had the smell of sugar added to that unexplainable aroma that always accompanies church meeting rooms. People stood around talking in their southern accents and too-big-for-their-faces smiles. I was so ready for the Unholy King to show up and slaughter them all.

             “Look how big you’ve grown, dear!” Pastor Dave’s wife- Grace- beamed with a pinch to my left cheek. “Oh! These cookies look just wonderful, don’t they? It is so nice to see you.”

             Another name to add to my list when I asked the Olde One to carry out his wicked deeds.

             “Just a haircut and a smile and the boy would have to beat the women away with a stick, Nancy, I can’t believe how handsome he is,” Grace told my mother.

             “Oh, he’s just going through a phase,” Pastor Dave said- placing his arm around his wife’s shoulder, “When I was his age, all I did was listen to Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden. My hair was even longer then too.”

             “it’s just this emo craze, Pastor,” my mom replied to the Cleric couple, “He’ll get over it by the time he’s eighteen.”

             The pastor and his wife hugged my mother and welcomed us to the cookie exchange before moving onto the next arrivals at the party.

             “It’s not emo, mom!” I snapped at her, “It’s Norwegian Black Metal and it is the soundtrack to the antiChrist’s coming.”

             “Hun, just cool it with the satanic stuff, look there are some girls here around your age! Maybe you could talk to them.”

             I shook my head with an eye roll as I set my platter of cookies down. How little she knew. That’s when I saw him.

             He was a robust man with black eyes and a bald head. He bore a slight resemblance to Aleister Crowley. The Olde One wore an expensive black suit with a blood-red tie. My heart leaped to my throat. The time for destruction had come.

             I ran over to the man and smiled grimly, “Good evening, Your Wickedness,” I said with a bow, “I am most humbled that you would come to our Christmas cookie exchange to burn the world.”

             The man held out his right hand, each finger was adorned with expensive gold rings containing big jewels in each. I shook it graciously.

             “Where are the cookies you have baked, son?” he asked in a deep voice. The man smelled of fire and decay.

             “Right over here, my Dark Lord,” I replied and lead him to my platter.

             The man picked up one of the cookies with a chocolate drop, took a bit, and chewed before swallowing. He held up the good to his eyes and nodded to himself before scarfing down six of each cookie. He moved onto the next plate and did the same. Over and over until he had sampled each person’s selection.

             “Your Unholiness, why don’t we start the Armageddon now?” I asked, I was growing impatient at this point. Like a little child who sees the gifts under the tree for him, but is told he can’t open them yet, I was antsy and dancing around.

             The man only raised a hand to stop me.

             “Welcome to our little cookie exchange, stranger, may I ask your name?” a cheery woman said behind us.

             The Olde One smiled and held a hand out, “Mr. Luci,” he said as he shook the hand of the pastor’s wife. “I am not really from around here, but I was told this was the best selection of Christmas cookies in the state.” The Ancient Unholy man was smiling like a grandfather and talked in a cheery tone. To the pastor’s wife of all people! He should be opening a portal to hell to send the woman into eternal despair, not wishing her a Merry Christmas.

             “Well, we are always happy to welcome new guests into our little Christian community here,” the woman said.

             “I appreciate the open welcome very much, Grace,” the Olde One smiled warmly, “I also have to say, your cookies are by far the best I have had to pleasure of eating in a long, long time. Would it be too much of a hassle to ask for a few to take home with me?”

             “Why of course not!” the woman basically shrieked with pleasure, “Just wait one moment while I get a few for you.” She handed the man who would bring her destruction a festive baggie of cookies.

             “Thank you very much, ma’am,” he told her, “And I wish you the merriest of Christmases.”

             The woman put her hands to her heart while making puppy dog eyes in a manner more thankful than flirtatious. The Olde One walked out the door.

             “Wait!” I shouted running after him. “What about the despair? Burning all the churches, destroying the governments, and sending the Christians of the world to hell? I baked all these cookies for you to come and begin the rise of hell right in our hometown!”

             The old man shrugged his shoulders and spoke, “Eh, all these cookies have made me tired, my son. Besides, the Armageddon can come anytime, good cookies though- they only come once a year.”

             “But your Unholiness!” I howled, “We can do it right now. I’ll be your right-hand servant.”

             With the flow of the wind, the old man disappeared into the night to return from the wicked darkness he came from.

             I had summoned the Olde One. The unholy leader of the universe who was prophesized to bring down everything unholy and good. The leader of the forces of hell to burn religions and governments where they stood. Only, he was too in love with the Pastor’s wife’s cookies and now I have to sit on my grandmother’s couch on Christmas and watch over my little cousins as they play with all their new gifts. I hate this world.