My hand
mixer is possessed.
I know this
because:
A. It makes an ungodly noise when you
turn it on.
B. It only pulsates on two speeds—fast
and warp.
C. It’s a Black & Deck’er.
Just made my
first batch of Christmas cookies.

I thought I
had done something wrong, but then I remembered I was using the hand mixer from
hell—the one that needs an exorcism.
Last year my
old one died when I was in the middle of mixing a batch of thick-batter cookie
dough. I had to stir the rest of it by hand. At the risk of further indulging in a Laura-Ingalls-Wilder-pioneer-woman-fantasy, I immediately drove over to Walmart and bought the cheapest one I could
find. After all, a mixer is a mixer, right?
Do not be
deceived!

Garth heard
the sound and came running.
“What
the heck is wrong with that thing? Sounds like someone
giving a cat a bath.”
“Nothing that Father Damien can’t fix.”
Menacing
mixer or not, I gotta get those cookies made. Guess I’ll just say a few Hail Marys and pray for the best.
Honestly, I
don’t know what possesses me to keep
on using that demon mixer. Maybe it’s just like that old comedian Flip Wilson
used to say…
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