The Possession

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. 

Things were going great until I stuck the beaters into the mixture of flour, butter and sugar. The batter mysteriously flew out of the bowl…and splattered itself across the front of my red shirt (warning: never wear red when flour is involved). 

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!

So, innocently, I dragged it out again this year. My first mistake was not remembering I had a devil of a time controlling the cursed thing last time I made cookies. Suddenly bewitched myself, I threw all caution to the wind and selected speed #6 to blend my batter. I swear the thing levitated off the counter. It was so loud and so screechy, you would have thought a coven of banshees had descended upon our kitchen.

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…

       “Da devil made me do it!”