Some WEIRD Cookies

Finally, my mother took me to the grocery store, but I wasn’t the one who actually wanted to go inside the store. I had some business to attend to in the car. 

“So you said you needed, what again?” My mom asked me.

“Chocolate chips, vanilla powder, and epsom salt.”

“Epsom salt?”

“Umm, my feet are um, swelling.” I answer, remembering some boring book that talked about the combination of epsom salt and feet.

“Ok?”

Finally, she walked away and I noticed her mask still hanging on the back of my chair. 

“MOM! You forgot your mask!” I hollered “Again.” I mumbled, adding my hint of sas to everything and everyone. 

My mother successfully got to the store, wearing a mask and remembering to bring our reusable bags. I recall her talking to me saying “5 cents for a plastic bag! Can you believe that?! Stealing our money they are.”

Anyway, I crawl to the back seat and drop myself on the floor, with my hand outstretched reaching for a little treasure I found underneath the driver's seat about a week ago. 

“Haha, got it.” I announced to no one in particular, holding the bottle up to my face to analyze it better. Poison, the perfect ingredient for this so-called “cookie exchange”. When I get up on my knees, I see my mother walking over to the car with all five of our reusable bags filled to the brim with ingredients. She unlocks the car with her only free finger and throws all the shoppings into the back. 

“I thought you might like for this to be a hobby!” She exclaimed, an ugly smile crawling her face. “Child, you know I hid the poison under there. I’ll help you with the cookies.”

“Good god, mother!” I say, backing away, to only find myself hitting the other side of the car. “Now who would have known.”

4:30 and I’m ready to get my hands dirty with flour and baking soda. 

“You know we can just go to Hanford and get a baker’s dozen for $4.50?” Mother said, raising an eyebrow as though she never taught me anything. “Why do you think I never made you a birthday cake?”

“Wait! Didn’t you! What about my pistachio cake last year?” I said, feeling my heart drop.

“Bought. Price Chopper for $2.99.”

“But it looked so handmade!”

“All you need to do is get the sloppiest looking pastry in the aisle and people will think it's handmade.” She said, crossing her arms and leaning against the nearby wall. 

“B-B-But-“ 

“Hush child. I need to get some cookies.”

6 o’clock and finally the guests arrive. First my arch-nemesis, Natucha, the smartest kid in the entire fourth grade who always steals my thunder. Following close behind is Norman. Definition: jock, idiot, complete loser compared to me. 

“Dude, you forgot your mask.” I said, copying the way my mom coolly crossed her arms and leaned on the wall. 

“Nu uh, I’ve got one in my pocket, Einstein.” Norman replied, putting it on soon after.

“Yeah, compared to you, mister.” I said snorting towards the end. 

Afterwards, Mary Mae, who robbed a bank once came in, having a big backpack slung over her back. 

“Howdy, Mandozine.” Mary Mae said, inviting herself in, somehow picking the lock of our door. I also hate it when she calls me by my last name. Well, right back at ya’ buddy.

“Smith.” I replied

“Shhhhhhh! The cops might be listening!” She said, pinning me to the wall, pulling out a butter knife from her pocket. 

After a brief visit to death. Everyone finally arrived. And we could exchange cookies and eat. 

Norman forgot to bring cookies, Natucha brought chocolate chips (practical), and Mary Mae brought some gluten free, dairy free, flavor free cookies. Mine, though, were sugar cookies in the shape of the Eiffel Tower, with a strawberry mousse on the side (hint, the poison was in the strawberry mousse). 

“Man! I can’t wait to hit those cupcakes like a home run!” Norman said, drooling in his nasty jacket. 

“DUUUUUDE!” Mary Mae yelled, punching him in the arm with a gloved hand. “Cookie. Cupcake big, cookie small.”

“I thought it was math or something!” The dummy said.

“It’s not even math, bro.” I said. 

“I SAY WE EAT MANDOZINE’S FIRST!” Natucha said, drooling slightly. 

“Be my guest.” I said, eyeing my mother, who was standing in the back. 

Act normal she mouthed to me. 

I nodded. The poison kills someone within two minutes. 

30 seconds in, Norman grabs another. 

“What’s in this stuff? Magic?” He said, his eyes twinkling when the thought of magic comes to his mind. 

“No, poison.” 

“Cool!”

1 minute and 30 seconds. 

“Huh?” Mary Mae says. 

“Poison.” I said, more slowly and clearly.

1 minute and 59 seconds.

“Nooooooo!” Norman says, shriveling up into a soccer ball. 

“Nooooooooooooo!” Natucha hollers, turning into a perfect test.

“Bye?” Mary Mae says, soon to turn into a wob of cash. 

“Did you know they would turn into those things?” I asked my mom. 

“Yeah. It wasn’t poison. I just got some sugar and sprinkled it on top from Stewarts and apparently it was not sugar. And there was some poison in the mouse of course.” She replied.

“Oh.”

Later that evening, we feast on the other cookies. 

“Oh! These chocolate chip ones are delicious!” Mother said. 

I didn’t take a bite. 

“What do we do with the, um, objects?” I said.

“Well, it’s obvious.” She smirked. We kick the ball into the neighbor’s yard, we put the cash into the bank, and we cross off Natucha’s name on then test and write yours instead. Then you can hand it in.”

Cool. So we do that and finally I can enjoy the cookies and sleep well. 

That night. I am fast asleep in bed dreaming of unicorns and corn on the cob when everything goes black when I was just about to hop onto the horse. 

My mother had killed me. 

I am now dead. 

Forever asleep, stuck in a dream.