Bitter disappointment with blueberry flavor

I was wrong once again when I thought I would be rewarded for my hard work in the garden. It was declared that the blueberries were to be picked in a box and not in the mouth, which is my usual and favorite way. So I picked diligently and turned everything in with the expectation that Hydra would bake me blueberry treats as a reward. I figured if she did some kitchen magic with the blueberries, I’d have twice as many goodies. And I’d be up against myself if I had the choice of eating a handful of blueberries alone or a pile of freshly baked blueberry cookies.

Feeling how genially I figured it out, I was looking forward to getting home to start the baking process.

The dough looked perfect at the beginning, it was mixing beautifully in the mixer, and when Hydra put in Canadian blueberries and even added a few wild ones, the dough got a beautiful purple colour and smelled like ice cream. I got the bowl to nibble on, and if I knew how this whole story was going to end, I’m telling you right now that I would have devoured the batter as it was, because I don’t even remember having something this delicious.

The girl formed little marbles of dough, put them on baking paper and put them in the oven. I sat right under the oven and hypnotized the door to open and hopefully some of the marbles would roll out for tasting. The only one who rolled out was Traitor from the workroom, and he said that something was on fire at work, and that Hydra must go look at the computer immediately and help him do something about it. Right now, at the critical moment when a girl is supposed to be concentrating on my treats, the boy is bothering me with some nonsense on the computer.

It was clear to me even at this point that the baking sheet with the blueberry marbles was on thin ice. And it was!

When I suspected that the marbles might be just right, I ran into the other room and whined at them, running laps to make them aware that I was nervous and had something to show them. For once, I managed to lure Hydra into the kitchen to check the baking sheet – she discovered that the marbles had become pancakes as the oven wasn’t hot enough and they were still raw inside. Never mind, I thought – marbles or pancakes especially, I’ll eat it all ideally. So Hydra increased the temperature to 185 degrees and went off again to deal with the work nonsense.

Like hell, the damn wind slammed the door behind her.

I waited a minute, two, five, still hoping that they would figure out that they had isolated me from the pack and that it would be more than appropriate to open the door. So I scratched at the door for a while, and then waited in the bed in an orderly fashion for one of them to open the damned door. I increased the intensity of the scratching as I started to feel that the biscuits were getting more and more roasted.

An eternity passed, and Hydra burst out of the door like great waves of water, shrieking: “Tokki’s cookies!” Well, you remembered, you airhead – I chased her into the kitchen. When she opened the oven, all that came out was a dark grey cloud, followed by a pungent smell that spread throughout the kitchen. As Hydra whizzed past me with a sizzling baking sheet, I saw my blueberry treats turn into smoldering charcoal. I watched for a moment longer through the closed balcony door as my burning treats fumigated the entire neighborhood like police smoke bombs, thinking to myself that Traitor had predicted it pretty accurately when he arrived in the kitchen with the information that SOMETHING WAS ON FIRE, too bad it didn’t stay with their unimportant work stuff.