Bake Fail

This was my entry for the Winter 2024 Writing Battle challenge. It won honorable mention.

word count: 1000 words

Prompts:

Genre: Culinary Catastrophe

Item: Chocolate

Character: A tyrant

Bake Fail

Phyllis Stonemair was a tyrant.

If the members of the PTA had any sense, her presidency would end with next month’s election. At first, we supported her. Phyllis advocated for new football uniforms. Her fundraising fixed the leaky gym roof. However, months into her tenure, things changed.

            Instead of improving the school, Phyllis crusaded against vending machines. She argued only “healthy” snacks should be available, and that flavored water was better than soda. The students revolted, but it was futile.

            With her bake sale, Phyllis once again promised improvements. I didn’t trust a word she said. The fine print would come after she was elected for another academic year.

             “The cookie bake sale is this Saturday,” Phyllis yelled over the chattering crowd. “The baker who sells the most cookies will get a gift card to Outback Steak House!” She scanned the crowd, her head on a swivel. Smiling, she added, “And if you can beat my delectable cookies, you’ll also get bragging rights.”

Phyllis boasted on multiple occasions about her chocolate chip cookie recipe, always using words such as “sinful” and “decadent.” She’d banned all snacks from the school, but her cookies must have been made with holy water because they were allowed.

            I wished I could bury her with her stupid cookies.

*****

Rob and I carried three Tupperware containers of cookies into the school gymnasium.

The aroma of sugar, peanut butter and a hint of orange danced in the air.

Rob rushed to a corner table. “Mom! Over here!”

My smile at his exuberance faded as I saw Phyllis setting out her cookies one by one on a tiered stand. I gave her a wan smile as she waved at me with dancing fingers.

“No running off with your friends,” I said to Rob as I approached the table. You are a cookie salesman today, got it?”

Rob started to groan.

 “Hey, you’re still grounded for missing curfew last week. Keep me company, and I may let you off with time served.” I raised my eyebrows, waiting for him to see how fair a deal this was.

“Fine.” He pulled out his phone.

“Cookie selling, not phone scrolling.”

He groaned, and put it away.

When customers trickled in, Phyllis had an initial rush of buyers. Her aroma of haughtiness drifted down to us.

Two women approached our booth. “This is delicious!” A woman in blue exclaimed. “Cheryl, come taste these!” She waved over a woman in pink.

The pink-clad woman’s eyes widened as she popped a piece into her mouth. “You’re right! These might be better than Phyllis’s.”

Everyone thinks their grandmother makes the best cookies. I’d followed my grandmother’s recipe exactly. Each line had included her method and tips for getting the desired result.

A crowd surrounded our table, all clamoring for a taste. I only brought four dozen, and they were already half gone. Maybe I really had a chance to win this thing and put Phyllis in her place.

“I should have made more,” I muttered. “Rob, you stay here while I run home to make another batch.”

            “I’ll go!” He tugged on my arm. “You’ll be better at selling these ones.” His eyes grew in size as he pleaded. “I’m so bored. Let me go make them.”

            “You did help me with the first batch…. Okay, make two more sheets, but try to be quick about it.” Good thing he’d passed his driver’s test last month. Truthfully, if I left him here, he’d probably wander off and leave the table unmanned. “If you aren’t back in forty-five minutes, consider your grounding sentence unfulfilled.”

            “Deal,” he called over his shoulder, running out of the gym.

            Forty-five minutes later, when I was down to the last two cookies, Rob returned with a fresh batch. Light bounced off the gooey chocolate. I smiled and placed the new offerings on the table.

            Phyllis appeared at our booth. “What could possibly be so good about these cookies?” Her hands cupped her hips and her eyebrows furrowed. “Let me see what all the fuss is about.” She grabbed one of the warm cookies and took a large bite.

            Immediately, she gagged. Clasping her throat, she coughed and spit the cookie onto the floor. “What did you put in these?” She spit onto the gym floor again, gagging and making all sorts of noises.

It was all a bit dramatic.

            The crowd had quieted. All eyes were on Phyllis and the pile of chewed-up cookie at her feet.

Phyllis cried, “How could any of you buy these? They are disgusting!”

            The woman in pink walked over. “Phyllis, we’ve all tasted Beth’s cookies. Why are you making such a scene?”

            “Call the police! She tried to poison me!” Her finger pointed in my direction. “You did this on purpose.”

            The crowd murmured. Dozens of scowls targeted her. Phyllis dropped the last bit of cookie. She covered her mouth, her cheeks bulging, and ran out the door.

            I picked up one of his cookies and broke off a small piece. My tongue was assailed with saltiness. “Rob, you did follow the recipe, right? These taste really salty.”

            “Oh no….” Rob’s hands cupped his cheeks. “I was rushing…”

            My heart sped, realizing what happened. A few months before, I put all of the dry goods into labeled and matching glass containers. I wanted to be organized, but if one were in a hurry, it would be easy to mix up the salt and sugar containers.

I put the lid on his batch of cookies and tucked them under my arm.

            Rob asked, “Are you mad?”

            Phyllis made a fool of herself and we now had a line of people wanting to support me and buy my cookies.  

I smiled. “Not at all.”

*****

            Phyllis didn’t win the cookie baking contest or the presidency. Her behavior was so reviled that no one could bear to vote for her.

My presidential victory was salt in her wounds.

I wasn’t mad at Rob one bit.