“Now?”
“Yes. We’ll throw frosting and smear cake, chocolate sauce, marshmallows, and sprinkles all over his cars. Nothing a little carwash can't fix. Harmless fun and petty revenge!” she said.
“You know what?” I said, standing up and pouring myself another shot. “Turn on the oven. Let’s bake!”
*
“You don’t haveto make it perfect,” Morticia complained as Fiona carefully measured out flour. “No one's eating it.”
“But I’ll know if it’s not good!” she wailed.
The mixer whirred as I made royal icing. Fiona carefully spooned the batter into cupcake tins.
“Can you make me some green and red frosting? I want to make swirled tops,” she said.
“I want marshmallows,” I slurred, pouring us all another round of shots. It was definitely getting a little blurry in here. I was really starting to think smearing cake and candy all over Owen's cars was a totally fantastic idea. Hey, he was a lying, cheating, Christmas-hating bastard, right? Really, if I thought about it, I was showing considerable restraint.
By the time the cupcakes had been baked, cooled, and decorated, the eggnog vodka was gone and we had started on the Yule log vodka, which was supposed to taste like chocolate mousse but tasted like reindeer roadkill.
“The frosting is done,” Morticia said, scraping a bowl into an overflowing five-gallon bucket.
“We need disguises,” Fiona suggested.
“I have the perfect thing,” I said, snapping my fingers, or trying to. That vodka was messing with my hand-eye coordination.
From one of my boxes of costumes, I pulled out three elf outfits.
“Why do you have three?” Fiona asked.
“They were on sale.” I shrugged, pulling on the red tights and little shorts. I put on the jacket and tightened the belt. Then I helped Fiona lace up the bodice on her elf costume and adjusted Morticia's collar. With our elf hats and sunglasses, my friends and I could be any mall Santa's little helpers.
“We can’t just walk in with this stuff,” Fiona said, gesturing to the boxes of sprinkles and the bags and buckets of icing.
“We'll wrap it,” Fiona decided. “I bought all this Christmas paper from the dollar store and never used it.”
“We should use it. I have bows too!” I said as we sat on the floor, wrapping the boxes of sprinkles, icing, sauces, and cupcakes.
“Now who’s taking too much time?” I said as Morticia carefully wrapped the boxes of cupcakes.
“It has to look legit,” she said as she carefully lined up the patterns on the silvery wrapping paper.
When everything was wrapped, Fiona took the boxes of cupcakes. I had the bags of royal icing and boxes of sprinkles, marshmallows, and other small, sugary objects. Morticia had the bucket of buttercream frosting and bags of chocolate sauce and red syrup. As we were about to leave, she picked up the bat and added it to her load. She had wrapped it neatly in green-and-red paper and tied a large bow on it.
“Just in case you want to really let loose.”
We hauled the baked goods across town to Owen's tower. After all the physical exertion, I was a lot more sober when we arrived there and snuck into the garage.
“Maybe we shouldn’t do this,” I said apprehensively as I surveyed the rows of expensive cars. Morticia and Fiona were unwrapping the bags of frosting. “We could just eat the cupcakes instead.”
“You shouldn’t eat so many carbs,” Owen's mom said, appearing out of the shadows, the bells on her elf costume jingling softly. “Carbs make you fat and break out your skin. I should know. I have two PhDs.”
“Well, good for you,” Fiona shot back, hefting a container of icing.
Was Owen’s mom going to call the cops?Holly, this was such a dumb idea.
Diane frowned as she surveyed the boxes of cupcakes and frosting. “Are you here to do some sort of crazy sex activity with my son?”
“Of course not!” I said just as Morticia said, “Yeah, we totally are.”
