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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1207150-Life-is-a-cookie
Rated: E · Short Story · Action/Adventure · #1207150
A short story about what happens when you sneak cookie dough
My aunt and mother have always been into cooking, but they have never been “into” cooking the way I have.  You see, every Christmas Eve, Aunt Nora and Mother always bake so many treats that we spend half the year devouring them. There are gingerbread houses, Christmas wreaths, peanut brittle, fudge, chocolate covered pretzels, and any kind of cookie you can imagine, but my favorite dessert they made was always the double-fudge cookies.  Mind you, every word of this story is true.  This was the Christmas Eve that changed my, well; I guess you could say, view of the world around me.

“Julie, will you put this cookie dough on the pan and into the oven for me?  Your aunt and I are running to the store to get more ingredients.”

I, indulging my mother in her request, began to put clumps of cookie dough on the pan, while my mother and aunt went out to the car.  As soon as I could no longer hear the car motor, I began to study the cookie dough.  There was no mistaking the scent of the delicious double-fudge cookie dough as it drifted to my nose.  The dough was so irresistible, and I was so sure that no one was looking, that I quickly popped a piece into my mouth.  That was my first mistake.  My second was that I accidentally dropped some on the floor and let Klaus, my cat, lick it up.

The dough didn’t taste right.  That was odd.  Mom and Aunt Nora were very exact in putting just the right amount of an ingredient into the mixture.  Well, everyone makes mistakes.  I decided to make another batch of cookies after checking to see if we had the materials and throwing the last one away. 

When I put the cookies in the oven I began to feel tired.  Klaus jumped into my arms, and I started toward the door.  That was when it happened.  All of a sudden, I began to feel lightheaded.  My head erupted in pain, my entire body tingled, and I began to fall.  Just in time, I grabbed the kitchen counter.  All I saw after that was darkness.

“Klaus, Klaus stop it!”

I awoke on some sort of hard surface to my cat licking my face.  After rising to my feet, I took a look at my surroundings.  Well, I was still in my kitchen, but why did everything look so big?  It looked like I was standing on the counter.

Something cold and hard hit my back as I took a step backward.  I turned around and found myself looking at my reflection.  It looked misshapen on the huge round surface of something.  To my horror, after staring for a while longer, I realized what I was looking at.  It was a metal mixing bowl.  Even worse though, was what I realized next.  I was a quarter of an inch tall! Klaus and I had shrunk!

What had happened?  Why were we so small?  Then I remembered.  It was the bite of cookie dough I sneaked when my aunt and mother left.  One thing was for sure, if I ever got out of this mess I wouldn’t go sneaking things like that again.

Just then the door creaked open.  I had no more time to think about this.  I had to hide, and fast.  The gingerbread house caught my eye.  As quickly as I could, I ran inside the open door of the house with Klaus following close behind.

“Nora, will you help me put all of the food away?”

“Great, my mother and aunt are home,” I thought.

I had to find a way to change myself back before my mom noticed I was missing.  Quietly, I stole from the gingerbread house, and began to try and find my way to my room to sort this situation out.  Unfortunately, another disastrous incident had made its way into this calamity.  Getting myself into sticky situations had become my forte.  If you don’t think this story is absurd already, wait until you hear this.

While I was running on my way to the cord I saw, that I thought I could use to slide down on to get to the floor, Klaus and I slipped on a small mound of butter.  That’s right, a mound of butter.  That’s not all.  When we slipped we skid across the counter, and landed in the bowl of chocolate chips Aunt Nora was holding level with the counter.  That’s not even the end of it.  Aunt Nora poured the chocolate chips into a mixture that would be cookies, and with them, Klaus and me.

Franticly, Klaus and I looked for a way so escape, but sadly, found none.  A loud whirring noise startled me.  I looked up to find a blender hovering over the mixing bowl.  Even more frantically, I grabbed Klaus and began swimming as quickly as possible toward the edge of the bowl.  My screams could not be heard over the loud mechanical sound of the blender.  I did not succeed in finding handholds to climb out of the bowl.  However, somehow, I managed to keep Klaus and myself from being blended.

Next, my aunt put globs of sticky dough on top of a pan.  Klaus and I were buried in the middle of one.  Then, I felt myself being lifted into the air.  Suddenly, I became very hot.  I butted my way through the cookie dough and rose to the surface.  It was then that I realized why I was hot.  I was in an oven!

The huge metal door was slowly creaking shut.  I looked at Klaus, and we both started running and jumping over the metal bars to get through the huge metal door.  My skin felt like crayon left a little bit too long in the sun.  Just as the huge door was about to click shut, my cat and I leapt through it, and into the air.  That was when the pain, dizziness, and tingling came back.

I awoke to find my cat once again licking my face while I was lying on the kitchen floor.  Maybe it was all a dream, but then why was I covered in sticky dough?  I went upstairs, took a shower, and went to bed.

The next morning, my family gathered around the Christmas tree, and began to open presents.  As was the tradition, my mother laid out all of the snacks, and everyone began to eat.  When my mother noticed I wasn’t eating, she looked confused.

“Julie, do you want a double-fudge cookie?  I know they are your favorite.”

“No, thank you, I’m just...not in the mood.”
© Copyright 2007 Hailen Kenthe (hailen11 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1207150-Life-is-a-cookie