(10) The July baked Christmas moldies

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Summary

"Mom retched aloud over and over again, a hand to her chest, big tears rolling down her cheeks." Warning: Any direct or indirect ressemblance to anything or anybody living or dead is purely coincidental! The storybook "Morbid and moronic referential code of life and society" is inspired and dedicated to Giovanni Boccaccio, the 14th century Italian author of the "Decameron". Boccaccio's storytelling is lively, sarcastic, off beat and challenging to the norm with these truths we accept when we have to. The stories in the referential code are (according to the author) Contributions of accounts sent by all kinds of people, some recounting an event they witnessed or remember. Some leave a chilling first hand narrative. The tone is "descriptive". The anonymous context allowed revelations of personal experiences outside of daily life, or on subjects all contributions had to live up to: only accounts of what life and society have as the least comforting to offer.The result are "stories" mysterious and suspenseful, with sarcasm, irony and dark humour. There are funny moronic moments, but there is no escaping the grip of terrible sadness and trauma, all weaved in a pattern studded with tidbits of history, occult, chaos, mortality and death

Status
Complete
Chapters
1
Rating
n/a
Age Rating
13+

(10) The July baked Christmas moldies



I will tell you a funny anecdote about a family member, about how he decided one year in mid-July to bake for everyone a nice Christmas treat, wrapped to their name and bake loads more for the festive season.

He saw an opportunity in this, he later explained to a letter to the family, to slowly and carefully bake a great variety of quality treats, using all the ingredients he could and following recipes to the letter.

That year he said he was trying something more daring and complicated than his usual green jellies with red maraschino cherries and red jellies with green maraschino cherries.

He bought nuts, cream, condensed milk, caramel, fruit, flower, eggs, pure vanilla, cinnamon, ginger, cloves, nutmeg, grated coconut, corn starch, pie crumbs, Demerara sugar, almond extract, yogurts, cream cheese, gum drops, powdered cocoa, walnut oil, powdered tapioca, molasses, maple syrup, strong ground African coffee, millet seeds, oats, butter, honey, marzipan, puddings, mince meat, rose water, fresh spearmint leaves, black liquorice, lemon soda, 1 kg brie, 1 kg Menthol, quick rise yeast, jams, sweet candied decorations, chocolate bars, Belgian shells, ice creams, cardamom, and with whatever else he had at home for cooking.

He baked his Christmas heart out till mid august. It is agreed everything he baked during that time put together could easily fill a couple of very large garbage containers. As lovingly as he stirred, tasted and added all the ingredients, he painstakingly packed and wrapped up every single morsel that came out of the stove.

He neatly addressed and decorated each gift box. Teeming with pride and holiday seasons' joy in advance, he staked them all to fill his closets and most of the basement. It was a good thing well done. He kept nothing of it for himself. He only now had to wait. Christmas came quick for him that year with a lot of gifts like those to give.

His increased activity before the holidays was motivated by an extremely rare complete family reunion.On that day in question, he was unable to contain himself. All his boxes were piled apart, and he insisted on having everybody open theirs from him first. So he distributed them in a hurry starting with the kids. When he was done, amidst tearing paper, murmurs of excitement and standing there, all proud, came the first cry, from one of his little nieces.

She had opened her box and bit into one of two fats furry green--blue cookies, a bell and a snowman, for all I could tell. Bits and pieces of cookie were falling from her lips as quickly as his smile when all around him, interjections of surprised disgust, looks of anger and worry multiplied, as did his own awed shock at the sight of another open box, left alone, showing beautiful Christmas mollies of all kinds.

He saw for himself sugar cream squares, more than halfway each blue with delicately formed small round puffs of white meld. The fudge was all furry white like bristly beard, muffins that looked like steel wool, doughnuts six times their size in mold. All that had been fruit glazes were rotten black. Everywhere was ugly blue, green and white to be seen. White especially.

All the furry stuff looked scary to touch, even just to look at, and the thought of biting into such rarely seen developed mold and feel it against the roof of your mouth was enough to nauseate. Mom retched aloud over and over again, a hand to her chest, big tears rolling down her cheeks.Many relatives just stared like transfixed at their moldie, disgustedly fascinated and http://shocked.No wonder the reflex was to drop the box they were holding and get away from it.Many people could be heard throwing up.If it was at the sight of the puddings, I would understand.

They were the grossest to see, and they actually moved.Grandma got the jackpot.What was supposed to be the nicest gift, a big box A huge angel cake, was completely covered in thick white mold.The cherries were molded Home would've made a very nice wreath on its own like that, but grandma didn't see that way.She had lowered the box slowly, her smile long since replaced by a dull glassy stare.

Her great big bump made her bend closer to her gross cake, and eyes bulging, tongue protruding, she was really getting sick. An aunt who saw from a distance how sickened she looked shouted "get it out of her face!", but it was too late. The box had slipped from her hands and fell to the floor. Gagging very loudly, she finally threw up all over her dress and on her knees.

Her dentures had fallen out of her mouth at the same time. This was no good.He looked everywhere, from Christmas moldies to angry faces accusing him of some kind of cruel joke, hearing long wails, hard sobbing and occasional "ohs!"of surprise as people walked around the mess out of the room. So much good food went to waste.

By the looks of it all, you never could have sworn that only the best ingredients were used, and by the taste of some, which was truly wicked, you never could have guessed that only the tastiest of ingredients were used.It turns out he never suspected all the food could have molded and wasted like that, because, as he later explained to the family in a letter, he had seen expiration dates on packages sometimes that let him think if something was well packed enough, it was nearly imperishable. He eventually snapped out of his daze and left in quick strides, hated and leaving a much ruined family christmas reunion behind.