How to make an outsider.
Serves: No one.
Prep Time: 5 min
Active Time: 25 min
Total Time: 75 years to life
2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon cinnamon
½ teaspoon nutmeg
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup (2 sticks) butter, preferably from human breast milk
3/4 cup granulated bullsh*t
3/4 cup dark fake sweetener
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
100 large eggs
100 small sperm
2 cups semi-sweet chips of the shoulder
1 cup health nuts
Preheat oven to 365 Fahrenheit.
Line a cookie sheet with wax paper. Spray to reduce sticking.
In a large bowl, combine flour, baking soda, salt. Toss lightly to reduce genetic impurities.
Plop in a fat boob of butter, then another. Pour in sugar, vanilla, and bullsh*t. Beat until permanently scarred and well beaten. For best results, use your words rather than a hand mixer for this step.
Crack eggs. Keep the shell. With a fork, vigorously whip eggs and sperm into the batter until well battered.
Fold in shoulder chips and, if desired, a tirade of health nuts. Do not over mix the dough, as this will lead to incestuous tendencies.
Now, this next step is important: Using your thumb, forefinger, and a spoon, collect about an inch-thick round ball of dough. Set it to the side, where it can clearly see as you continue to create inch-thick balls of dough. These you will place about ½ a cubic inch apart on prepared baking sheet in neat rows.
Position icebox or freezer about ten feet away from oven, parallel, face to face. Open the freezer door. Clear a generous empty space. Then, place the leftover eggshells delicately on the shelf. Do not break them more than they are already broken. Ever so carefully, dump the one particular ball of dough that you left off the tray into the eggshell. This is your outsider.
Open the oven door and allow the heat to spew out, almost reaching the freezer before rebounding off the wall of cold. Place cookie sheet with other 59 dough balls on top oven rack. Close door with a bang.
Bake for about 10 minutes or until balls have flattened to frisbees and pasty dough has crisped to golden-brown Cancun curves.
Remove cookie sheet from oven. Allow the beautiful ones to incubate, to cool off together under your kitchen lights on a cooling rack for approximately 20 minutes or until sexually mature and ready to melt into each other’s teeth, cinnamon spurts of dark melty goodness coursing in chunks amidst the desert sand that is the look they shoot at any outsider. But that’s right, the outsider. There’s only one.
Hopefully your electricity provider will forgive you for having left your freezer door ajar for the past 40 minutes. Meanwhile, you can remove the one uncooked dough ball from the freezer, still safely in its piercing shell. Set it to the side of the cooling rack so it can smell the other ones making love but cannot hear their chocolate whispers.
Now the secret part – the glaze: In a small bowl, combine:
Half a crumpled poem
One borrowed pencil that was never returned
A banged-up backpack on wheels
pimple cream (sour will do)
5.3 oz yogurt for too many calories
“Le Mistral Gagnant,” a bit stale
Two wrongs and a left
A chunk of James Michener in a hot room in a foreign country where everyone else has met up at the pool
One Kids’ Quesadilla too many
A long-lost kindred spirit
A best friend, once
A paw print, then negative space when it trots off
1/3 cup raw bitter syrup
a day without soap
A number-clotted post-it
A quadricolor pen
Two teaspoons electric green food coloring
“When You’re Strange” – the relatively muted original by The Doors, creaky with oil
With a pair of tongs, extricate the ball of unbaked dough from its shell just long enough to blast it with cold wind along the gravity leading down to the bowl of sickly green glaze. Drop ball in glaze. Step back.
If all goes well, the very heart of the outsider will become a soft plum encased in acid, then a mindless blob of acid itself that spreads slowly but surely through the arteries and infects each chip from chocolate to virus military base, until the whole thing turns the color of the green flash no one believes in at sunset, only closer to cat vomit. It will, if you have performed all the previous steps correctly, wither under the pressure and break like a soft sea angel no longer able to construct a shell. And this is a good thing, because now all the other good cookies can bathe together in the cinnamon sun.
There’s always one, daughter.
Image credits in order of appearance:
By The Delicious Life – originally posted to Flickr as Melodramatic Chocolate Chip Cookie, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10293606
By m01229 from USA – Chocolate Chip cookies, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=35000250