I'm going to jump around a bit while I get some things settled and get my kids ready for Halloween. Also I'm going to rewrite the two blogs where I get shot and run my arm though the (god darned) French doors. So until then I'm going to write some smaller stand alone stories.



I Make Cookies


In late September 1977 we had moved to the small town of Atkinson, Illinois. Dad had stopped drinking and was now the head administrator of the Good Shepard Foundation an Alcohol and Drug abuse clinic. I was now in 7th grade. Geno and John had graduated from high school and now worked at a couple of local factories. Rose had ran away from home for the 17th time in 2 years. Dad would spend his nights driving around trying to find her. (I'm not sure why. Like an alley cat she'd always come home when she was tired and hungry.) To help out at Dad's work Mom would go in with him to the office and act as his secretary.
What did all this mean to me?
It meant when I got home for school I was alone for anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour. I didn't mind all that much. It gave me some quality time with Dad's extensive Playboy collection, and also time to saw a little bit everyday though Geno bed. I was curious how far I could saw though the side beam before it would fall apart.(It was in the middle of the night in December when the bed finally gave way.)
Mom working did mean that there were no cookies ready for me when I got home everyday. My Mom was a great cook.(Except for pork chops. It was criminal what she did to those) And other then pies her best work was her cookies. When she made a batch of cookie dough she made enough to cook for a week. Unfortunately she wasn't getting home in time to make cookies. So the cookie dough was going to waste in the fridge.
The beautiful chocolate chip cookie dough.
So one day after I was done sawing Geno's bed for the day I stood in the kitchen thinking, "Wouldn't it be nice if I made cookies for everyone before they got home?"
I had seen Mom do it plenty of times. I knew exactly what to do. I grabbed a cookie sheet out of the cabinet, and opened the fridge and took out the cookie dough Mom had made. I looked at the oven and tried to remember what Mom set it.
"375", I thought . That sounds right.
I turned the knob on the gas stove to 375. I waited a second then opened the door to see if it was lit.
All I heard was a hissing noise.
Hmmmmm. That's not right. I looked around and found some matches. Very carefully I opened the door and threw another lit match in. I slammed the door shut. A minute went by. I opened the oven door again.
Hisssssssssssss.
Damn.
Maybe I need to turn it up? I looked at the knob. Maybe 450? I turned it to 450 and opened the door and tossed another match in. I watched the match burn out.
Hisssssssssssss.
I took one more look. Maybe broil? Maybe that's what I put it at to light it? I turned the knob to broil.
HISSSSSSSSSSSS.
I opened the door with a lit match in my hand. Before I tossed the match in I noticed on the bottom of the oven floor a little hole.
HISSSSSSSSSSSSS.
I bet that is where the match goes. I leaned down and put the match in the hole.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
A huge fireball erupted towards my face. I straightened up in a shot and slammed the door shut. My heart was beating very fast. I felt my face. It wasn't burned.
Thank God , I thought.
I looked over at the cookie sheet and cookie dough. To hell with it I thought. This isn't worth it. I put everything back and turned the oven to off. I was still standing in the kitchen when Mom and Dad came home. I stood there trying to do my best to look calm and cool. Mom came into the kitchen carrying a grocery bag. Dad was right behind her.
"How was school", she asked.
" Fine", I said.
Mom was about to say something else when she got a look of horror on her face. Even Dad looked startled.
"Oh My God ! What happened to you?" I had never heard her shout before.
"What", I said with a forced smile, not realizing that my eyebrows were all but gone and there was smoke coming from my hair.
"You've been in a fire!"
Knowing that the jig was up I told Mom what had happened, almost crying while I did so. She looked very angry and told me to go upstairs and take a bath. Feeling very humiliated I slunk out of the room, and went up the stairs to the bathroom. Before I went into the bathroom I heard the downstairs door open and Geno and John came in.
I kept thinking ,"I'm in so much trouble. I'm dead meat."
I washed my hair in the bathtub. My hair didn't smell bad until the water touched it. It reminded me of the smell of a burning rat. I began to feel very sorry for myself.
When I heard the laughter erupt from the downstairs I knew I wasn't in all that much trouble. Turns out my family thought it was the funniest thing they had ever heard. I would send the next few weeks being the butt of many jokes. Even Rose made fun of me after Dad found her and dragged her home. It took a long time for me to live down what happened with those cookies.
Two good things did come out of it.
I ended up with a cool hair style. The fire gave me a weird punk kind of haircut. Everyone asked me where I got it. I told them I did it myself. For a short while everyone was in awe of me.
The second thing was until well after I was in high school, Mom always made sure that there was fresh cookies waiting for me when I came home. She told me she didn't want to take any chances.