A Special Fictional Report from Agent Karat
On a day as regular as any, an irregular thing happened.
This event was so small and insignificant it hid the import and meaning of its grandeur. Like all stories that must have a beginning in some place unusual or far away, this one has a beginning, too. But it is not in a place with a made up name or setting.
This story takes place somewhere mostly everyone can step into right now. You may have done so even this morning or perhaps you’re thinking about going there right now. This place of truly amazing power and magic is none other than your kitchen.
I could tell you it was a small kitchen, but your mind will probably think of your own. All your appliances aligned along the countertops, each specially designed to create your cravings. The vase of spoons, a block of knives, even the checkered towel that hangs from your oven. Well this kitchen was much like the one you’re picturing except it sat quietly in darkness.
With the swoosh of a door and the flick of a switch, the kitchen came alive.
“Is it time now, Mommy?” A little boy asked his mother excitingly.
“To make cookies for your class tomorrow? You betcha. Would you like to help me make them, Matthew?”
“Yah!” Was the reply as the boy beamed with excitement and happiness.
“Okay, well what type of cookies should we make?”
“Chocolate chip!” He replied.
“I know they’re your favorite, but we can’t just make chocolate chip. Some people may not like them.”
The boy looked at his mother sternly.
“Who doesn’t like chocolate chip cookies?”
The mother laughed and rubbed her hands affectionately through his hair.
“Lots of people, sweetie. Now let’s see here… How about we make a batch of chocolate chip and a batch of oatmeal raisin?”
Nodding, the boy began to help his mother prepare the kitchen.
Flour, sugar, and eggs were pulled from their respected homes and placed atop the kitchen counter. Reaching into the pantry the mom brought out chocolate chips, raisins, vanilla and oatmeal. As the little boy watched, his head peeking over the counter, his mom set to work.
Slowly and carefully she added ingredients. She mixed, and swirled and eventually two full cookie sheets were covered in delicious cookies; one chocolate chip, one oatmeal raisin.
At a sudden ding from the oven, the mother lifted the trays gently putting them inside as heat hugged the room.
They took a seat in front of the oven and watched patiently. The cookies sheepishly laid down, basking in the oven’s heat. Slowly they turned a golden brown. As soon as the little boy saw the chocolate chips melt he smiled.
Scurrying out of the way as the oven sounded summoning his mom to come around the corner and place her hands into oven mitts. As the door swung down the gentle bliss of the smell of delicious cookies flooded his nose. It was the type of smell he would never forget.
His mom whisked the pans back over to the counter, gently resting them on top. Using a fork she pried the cookies from their sheets and placed them on thin rack slightly suspended off the counter.
“That’s it! Now we let them cool off and in the morning we can pack them up to send with you to school”
The boy stared at them with hungry eyes.
“Can I have one now Mommy?”
“Not tonight sweetie, it’s too close to your bedtime. Besides they are too hot and will burn your mouth. I’ll set some extra aside tomorrow for you to have when you come home that are all yours.”
“Only the chocolate chip ones. Right Mommy?”
She laughed, and placing an arm around his shoulder walked him toward the kitchen door.
“Yes sweetie, just the chocolate chip ones.”
She turned off the light and they stepped through the doorway.
Now here’s the part where your mind may have already finished the story. You may be thinking: The boy awoke in the morning and brought his cookies to school to share with his classmates. Together they shared chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin alike. Once the little boy tried the oatmeal raisin his mouth will awaken. He will no longer hate oatmeal raisin and together he will enjoy the delicious taste of all cookies. This however is not that sort of story.
As the moonlight spilled onto the counter of resting cookies, one oatmeal raisin cookie sat up. The fire he endured in the oven burned deeply with rage in his gut. Since the beginning of cookie history everyone had adored the chocolate chip cookie. Mothers and fathers making them for their kids who always had smiles on their faces when they saw the tender melting chocolate chips. Everyone scorned the oatmeal raisin cookie. Who were they to judge? The chocolate chip cookies were full of unhealthy things for you. The world was so blinded by the sweetness of the chocolate chips they could not see what it was doing to them. On this regular night an irregular thing was about to happen. The oatmeal raisin cookie was going to take his revenge.
He counted himself fortunate. He had been placed on the racking’s edge so with ease he shimmied off. He landed on the counter, avoided crumbling, and rolled around to the rack on which the chocolate chip cookies rested.
As he approached the base one of them sat up and stared down at him.
“Oh, hello oatmeal. I see your raisin up early this morning.”
The oatmeal cookie said nothing in return.
“Got nothing to say? Did they bake your tongue off? Or are you just tired of being old-meal cookies”
Channeling every thought of going unnoticed at parties, the gaze of old toothless humans who sucked them into their mouths, and lastly the hatred he felt for the chocolate chip cookies, channeling these thoughts, he rolled himself up to the racks edge and began to push.
“What are you doing?” Mocked the chocolate chip cookie.
“You stink,” replied the oatmeal raisin cookie coldly.
“I’m going to give you a bath…”
Just as the chocolate chip cookie turned to look the front edge of the cooling rack slid over the smooth side of the kitchen sink. The rack tipped and plunged into the half full sink.
Chocolate chip cookies, freshly cooled slide effortlessly, and helplessly, into the the depths of the cold soapy water.
The lone chocolate chip cookie, who had a chocolate chip on its underside cool sticking him to the rack, remained. He looked in horror as his brothers and sister became soft piles of cookie dough.
“Oatmeal raisin cookie! Why? Why would you do such a terrible thing!”
“So you can feel as crummy as we do…”
With a final tap on the rack the last chocolate chip cookie broke from the rack screaming in horror as he joined his batch.
The oatmeal cookie rolled away from the sink back towards his cooling rack.
And that my friends is the tale of two cookies. Not of sweetness or kind partings, but of revenge. Because unlike cookies, revenge is a cookie best served cold.
With a love and passion for bringing stories to the world Agent Karat (@DavidMaier7) suits up to face any challenge. As the primary writer of Chronicles Unwritten Agent Karat enjoys reading, writing, and embarking on many podcast journeys.