Have A Christmas.

Chapter Seven: Are you icing chocolate chip cookies?

Anastasia

I was standing in my red kitchen looking into the oven staring at the cookies I had baking. The smell of chocolate chip cookies wafted through my house as my phone buzzed. I glanced up to the counter and finally stood, picking the phone up. Ignacio's face was on the screen and I had gotten a text from him.

I: Look!

He had sent me a picture of the cats and him laying on the ground around the Christmas tree.

A: Aw, so coote!

I: What are u doing?

A: Baking cookies

I: Are they black?

A: That is racist towards cookies. All cookies are beautiful.

I: They must be black or I won't eat them.

A: How does one make black cookies then?

I: Food coloring

A: What would u say if I said I don't have food coloring?

I: That u are lying

A: But I don't

I: I have black food coloring

A: Of course everything u own is black

I: will u make me cookies if i bring it?

A: Sure

I: I will be over in twenty minutes

A: Front door is unlocked. Don't be a crepe

A: I mean creep. Dumb autocorrect.

I: Suuuuuure. Autocorrect.

The timer went off and I jumped dropping my phone back onto the counter.

"COOKIES!" I scream as I rush to get my oven mitts.

I pull the cookies out of the oven and put them on a plate. I begin to stare at the cookies noticing that they were bare and simple. Nothing can be simple in my life. I run to the pantry and grab a tub of icing.

"GREEN AND RED! YES!" I scream to no one.

I was alone in my house. I screamed to no one. What am I doing with my life. I open the tub of icing and stare at it. Tempting me. I reach my finger in and cover it with icing. I proceed to stick my finger in my mouth and eat all the icing. I stare at my finger in shame. What have I done. I grab a knife and a cookie and start to spread icing all over the cookie.

"I HAVE A ARRIVED WITH THE BLACK FOOD COLORING NO NEED TO PANIC!"

"Did you need to be that dramatic?"

"I was pretending to be you," Ignacio tells me.

"Rude,"

Ignacio stares at my face, then to the cookie in my hand, then to the icing, then to the rest of the cookies.

"Are you icing chocolate chip cookies?"

"No,"

"I am judging you, so hard right now," Ignacio shakes his head in disappointment.

"I am sorry then," I say.

"Can we make cookies now?" Ignacio says.

"Yes,"

"YAY!"

"Why are you so excited?"

"The cookies will be my breakfast,"