My Grandmother is trying to Kill Me.


‘Twas the Night before Christmas, when all through the house, 

Scarce a creature was stirring, not even a mouse,

And Bethany in the midst of baking, cried out and smacked her head,

Because she suddenly recalled, that someone wanted her dead.

True story.

Admittedly, I can’t keep up this rhyming nonsense for long. Many things I am, but a Poet I am not.

But still, true story.

It is indeed the season of Christmas baking. Over the last three months I’ve grown quite fond of baking– first picking it up out of necessity, but then for fun.

This evening alone I baked three batches of Christmas cookies. It was a noble use of my time.  However, as I retrieved the last batch from the oven, I realized something horrible.

My grandmother is trying to kill me. Don’t laugh– I’m serious.

Her weapon?

These.

Sinister, right? She sneaks them into our house– being devious and clever (ish,) she sneaks them into our house disguised; and what disguise does she choose?

Only the way my grandmother transports these little balls of evil into my house doesn’t even have the decency to have frosting– she just uses green food coloring on a sugar cookie that doesn’t taste like sugar.

If we try to (politely!) refuse to eat these terrible little chunks of death, the consequences are even worse. My grandmother becomes enraged. Her face turns red– her already rotund form expands– her voice lowers to a dangerous whine, complaining about how we’re (I’m) so rude– she stomps off to the back room, threatening to bring the house down around us with her wrath.

I try to refuse these cookies because not only are they disgusting, but I have reason to believe eating a little sugar BB that was certainly purchased over thirty years ago may be bad for one’s health. The rumors that these little balls of sugar also contain lead helps confirm my believe that they’re simply little balls of death.

Let’s face it.

My grandmother is trying to kill me.

After proofreading with care, I finally clicked publish,

I researched it some, and my theories aren’t rubbish,

If tomorrow I shall die, and thence my soul shall take flight,

Happy Christmas to all, and to All a Good Night!

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  1. That. Was. Awesome! Oh, and good luck with the whole grandma thing…

    • Haha, thank you! I have to see her today for Christmas. I am dreading it. If I don’t survive, tell my readers I loved them. :)

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