A Delicacy Operation
After That Whole Mess

My skin was oily, and gross. I could have passed for a month-old sink sponge. I went back to the kitchen for water, and the attendants were baking cookies.
Kal complained, "We can't finish them without Crystal."
"It's gonna have to get done either way," argued Delaney.
I sipped my glass and looked up at them. They turned up their noses, the stuck-up pricks. I asked, "Why do you need my grandma just to bake some cookies?"
Delaney sighed, hard and exaggerated. "She usually makes us wait so she can knead the dough herself. She says that 'love' is the secret ingredient, and that only her decades of experience can make the perfect cookie. Otherwise it's a waste."
Kal grinned. "You have to admit, they do turn outbetter."
Delaney narrowed her eyes at him. "More than anything, we just don't want to make her upset. She throws the worst tantrums, and all the other residents take her side. It makes us feel like..."
"Villains?" I cut in.
"Like we're always doing something wrong." she finished.
"I can do it." I offered. "She taught me her method last year." I set down my water.
They shared a glance, and shrugged.

"It's one batch. Might as well let the kid have fun while he's stuck here." said Kal.
I washed my hands and rolled up my sleeves. I was obviously lying, but I wanted to help. The ball of dough was massive, bigger than a watermelon. I stood up to the counter and started kneading the dough the way that I'd seen her do it... pressing with the part where my palms met my wrist, spreading it out thinly and evenly. I picked it up and let it fall back onto itself, and started again. I felt like an expert, and I couldn't really tell where the skill was coming from. Could I really do this just because I saw someone else do it?
Just when I was starting to get lost in the motion of it, Delaney shrieked, "EWW!! WHAT THE HELL, KID?!"
I looked down. I was drooling, from the bottom lip. A steady stream of saliva trailed down into the dough, and I'd been mixing them together. I must have forgotten to send feeling under my tongue, to control the glands, or whatever. One of those weird things that are automatic for everyone else, and another blinking light on my internal control panel that made me feel like a pilot overseas without a liscense. I felt so embarrassed, but on the other hand, I was too sick to care. My body was starting to go numb, and my left leg fell asleep. It always happened first on the left.
Delaney pushed me aside, and stressed herself over what to do next. "Should we throw it out?!"
Kal shrugged. "Uhh... well, you have to bake them at like, four-twenty-five anyway... it only takes a hundred degrees to kill bacteria. Besides, that's the last of our eggs and chocolate chips, and Crystal would throw a fit if we wasted them."
"We can just go to the store and get new ones!"
"She could be back any minute, and she'll say something like... 'Back in my day, every penny was to count for something!' or whatever."
Delaney sighed. "Okay, I guess we'll just bake them. But I'm not eating this batch."
Kal flattened the dough and started cutting it into round shapes, and placing them on the trays. It took five trays to finish off the dough.

The first tray was done in fifteen minutes. They smelled amazing. I had two, with some milk, which suddenly seemed like less of an issue compared to the rotting bacon bits floating somewhere in my guts. Kal had one, and Delaney had none.
"When did you guys start selling cookies?" I asked.
"When Crystal demanded it." Delaney answered. "You know, some of these residents can be pushy, but that old widow raises the biggest stink I've ever seen when things don't go her way. It's not like I don't feel bad for her, but she's so..."
Kal finished for her. "...manipulative."
Delaney shook off a chill.
"Yeah. When she's in the room, it's like... you're so scared, you'll do anything just to make her leave you alone."
Kal made these fang gestures with his fingers at his mouth. "Cross her, and she'll bite you."
Feeling pretty beat, by both my migraine and the obvious and repetitive spider symbolism, I retired to my black bed and crashed for an hour, fading in and out of consciousness as my body convulsed and wretched from my dietary mistakes. Except the wine, that was a solid choice. At least from where I was writhing.