His grandmother had taught him how to bake, and Nona had also taught him the importance of keeping the kitchen clean. He washed the mixing bowl first, followed by the measuring spoons, and finally the cups that held the softer ingredients. Cleaning up and drying them always calmed Nestor’s nerves. Maybe it was the repetitive motion of using the dish towel always set his mind at ease especially over the first cookie he had ruined. After he set down his dish towel, he put away the bag of baking flour, the small container of spices, and the box of Arm & Hammer baking soda. He felt better and turned his attention back to the gingerbread men. Finally, he washed his rolling pin and put it away in a special place in a cupboard on the far side of the kitchen. It would wait patiently for him on the back of a shelf for the next time he wanted to bake one of Nona’s recipes.
Nestor only had one task left: decorating the cookies.
He had invested in buying a special decorating piping bag. He had spent at least an hour in the cooking store when he had purchased it, and Nestor had even made sure it had the right tip on it before he allowed the icing onto the gingerbread man.
But Nestor didn’t want any imperfections on the cookies he’d just baked, so he decided to decorate the broken gingerbread man first. It didn’t take long, and he made the little man look as best as he could. Nestor even tried to reconnect the two severed pieces of the cookie. With the white icing and a steady hand, he almost hid all of the damage he had done.
The rest of his cookies waited for him to finish decorating the first gingerbread man. He thought each one was better as he went along, and when he came to the last cookie. He decided to do something different. He decided to decorate the last cookie and make it look like his dead grandmother, Nona. Nestor had even given her an apron. There was one final step and in was to put the red and green candy buttons on her to complete her dress.
Yet Nestor only gave himself a minute to admire his work, he set the piping bag down and placed it next to the cookies. He would wrap them carefully and give them to his friends for Christmas. Nestor was very proud of his work. And he even thought his Nona might be proud of him.
It was then that Nestor discovered his mistake; he hadn’t put eyes on the Nona cookie or any of the other gingerbread men. He quickly fixed the problem. With a little frosting, he placed two eyes on the Nona cookie and then he placed the red candies on each of the gingerbread men. He was finished except for the broken man. He would have to wait, and maybe Nestor wouldn’t put any eyes on him. The rest of the cookies were perfect, and he wanted a cup of tea.
After he had placed the water in the cup and added the teabag, Nestor always found the smell of the tea to be soothing. It didn’t take long for the smell of the tea to mix with that of the gingerbread and Nestor’s kitchen had the aroma he remembered when he was a child. With a few sips from his cup, he knew he needed to pack the gingerbread men carefully into a holiday tin, but it wasn’t meant to be.
There was a cookie out of place when he returned. He soon saw what was happening. The Nona cookie was taking the piping bag, and piping out as much frosting as it could onto the head of the broken cookie. Nestor almost thought she was drowning the cookie in frosting. But it got worst. Nestor saw the other gingerbread men rise from the cooling tray. When all of them were standing they turned their attention to the broken cookie, and they ripped the cripple cookie’s legs away from his torso. When the cookie’s lower half was in the middle of them, they took their harden-hands and started to smash the broken cookie into pieces. They killed the poor cookie and left only crumbs in place where its legs once had been. It wasn’t the only horror, because the broken cookie head could no longer be seen. The Nona cookie had drowned her victim in frosting; she had extruded all of it out of the bag.
Nestor gasped, and the sound he made caused all of the cookies to turn towards him, including the one he had decorated as his Nona. With their red unblinking candy-button eyes, all of them stared at him directly, and Nestor didn’t know what to do, but he wished he hadn’t put his rolling pin away so quickly.
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Copyright
© Copyright 2015 by Charles Eugene Anderson
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About Charles Eugene Anderson
Charles Eugene Anderson
Charles Eugene ‘Chuck’ Anderson is a poet, painter, baker, runner, hospital volunteer, and writer who lives in Colorado. He spends most of his days with his pup, Champ. Chuck is a husband and father, and he has a weakness for muscle cars. Chuck’s stories are found at:
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