Duane's Cookies by Sarah Black

Duane painted a purple bikini on the cookie's bare ass. "You think polka-dots?" I gave him a stone face. He picked up some chocolate sprinkles and pressed them into the icing. "Come on, baby. Let's have some fun."
    Where had he gotten the cookie cutters? The first one was a skinny, naked broad with tits the size of watermelons. She'd need a wheelbarrow to haul those babies around.
    The second cookie was a Barbie doll clone sitting down with her legs wide open. Skinny little twit of a girl. He hadn't had much luck getting this one off the cookie sheet in one piece. There was a litter of broken cookie ankles and high heels. He might have tried a spatula.
    Twenty years married, and we were down to this. Was this his idea of a hot babe, these bimbos in high heels? He'd be drooling next. He was using my grandmother's butter cream frosting recipe to decorate pornographic sugar cookies. "Duane, what is wrong with you?"
    He looked up, wounded. "Come on, Cindy. Lighten up." He pulled another cookie toward him by her fat butt. "Let's put her in leather," he suggested, reaching for the food coloring. "Dominatrix cookie. What? What did I say? Come back!"
    I stomped into the bedroom and turned on Janis, cranked the volume up. Janis I understood. Gritty, raunchy, all woman. Janis would probably beat the crap out of her man if she found him decorating sugar cookie broads with red sprinkles between their legs.
    If he was a real man, he would march into this bedroom and undo these overalls, rip this flannel shirt off my shoulders and get down to business. Where was he? He could hear my music playing. I waited through Piece of My Heart, Ball and Chain, and Try. He didn't come. Too busy playing with his dolls. All right, Janis, I hear you, Mama. I'll try just a little bit harder. Goddamn, sometimes it was hard to be a woman.
    Okay, cookie-boy, payback. What to do? Hot dogs were always a classic, along with cucumbers and bananas. I could adjust my pig-in-a-blanket recipe easy enough to look like a rocking big dick.
    I rummaged around in the fridge and came up with a package of kosher hot dogs and a tube of crescent roll dough. I picked up the cookie sheet and started scraping off all his broken cookie legs and feet. That twisted bastard, now he was giving bimbo-Barbie a blow job, licking the frosting from between her legs, then reaching his long tongue up to lick the sprinkles off those bouncing breasts. I swear he was laughing at me. He looked right at me and took a big bite out of the first one's fat ass.
    Fine, if that's the way he wanted to play. I wrapped the dough around the weenies until just the tip was poking out. These would be circumcised, kosher pigs-in-the-blanket. I rolled two little balls out of biscuit dough and put them in the correct anatomical position.
    It didn't take long for them to cook. The weenies emerged erect and juicy from the dough.
    "Hey, that smells good!" Duane was licking pink icing off his cookie girl's tits. "Put mustard on mine, okay, baby?" He went back to his decorating. I ate my weenie in silence, thinking hard.
    Women had their tools. We had estrogen, Janis, chocolate. Now that gave me an idea. I had some chocolate chips, the bittersweet kind. That was a woman's life, bittersweet. That's what it felt like when we stood around in overalls and watched our men go slack-jawed over porn that looked nothing like us. Duane was watching me, licking frosting off his fingers. That man was clueless.
    I pulled out the hand-mixer and a little double-boiler and started melting the chocolate. Chocolate, butter, sugar, vanilla. The last time I made cookies, I gave my man a BJ right here in this kitchen. Duane always tasted good to me, God knows why, and now I thought about that every time I smelled chocolate.
    I looked over at him. He had frosting in his moustache and was leaning back in the kitchen chair, groaning. Too many cookies. His gray sweatpants were covered with crumbs. He was watching me work the mixer and he wanted to fool around, but he was too full. I had seen that look before.
    I turned the dough out on the counter, then got to work molding the perfect chocolate dick, considerably longer and thicker than my man's model. It was beautiful, rampaging across the cookie sheet. I pressed a chocolate chip into the tip.
    After I slid the cookie into the oven, I pulled up a chair next to Duane. He slapped me on the thigh. "Girl, you ready to take a break from all this cooking?"
    "I guess." I followed him into the living room. We flopped down on the couch and he pulled me up close.
    "You got the timer turned on? You don't want your pretty chocolate dick to burn." He slid warm hands up under my shirt. "You smell so good I could just eat you up." He let out a little burp.
    "Did you take your Prilosec?" Duane was well into heart-attack country. I had to watch that man like a hawk.
    "Yeah, baby. I took it." He rubbed his stomach. "So, you didn't think my little naked cookies were funny?"
    "Not really," I said. "Is that what you think women are supposed to look like? Skinny, high heels, big boobs?"
    Even through my tears I could see he was flabbergasted. "Cindy...Baby, they were just cookies."
    I sniffed and used my flannel sleeve to wipe the mascara off my cheeks.
    "I like a big ole girl, myself. One who knows how to cook and likes the way I taste, you know what I'm saying?"
    Janis would tell me not to turn my back on love. I got up and turned off the oven.

About the author:
Sarah Black has published fiction in Word Riot, Flashquake, Clean Sheets, and Ruthie's Club, and will have a story published this month in Slow Trains. Her romance The Forever Kind has been published by Heatwave Romance. www.sarahblack.net