This was no high-noon battle. We'd been pursuing the varmint, tracking him for weeks, circling in like buzzards. But not just buzzards: somebody would have to close in to make the kill. We are the gang of three: Rachel, straight shooter, fastest pastry-slinger west of the Atlantic; Tracy, fiery-deadly with a whip; and yours truly, the unhinged experimenter, defying a slow or easy death to any victim.
Get along little cookies, we got a dessert to wrangle.
We stared down at the fresh tube of sugar cookie dough, like the smooth barrel of a shotgun. Carefully, as it was fully loaded, we handled the s.o.b. Rachel got her hands dirty, adding plenty of ginger, then more just for the hell of it. She coldly, mechanically formed a couple dozen identical balls. I took them "down stairs" for a little heat treatment, to show those bast*rds we weren't kidding around, that they had better shape up.
When I came back, Tracy, Rachel, and deputy Shengning had stripped, pitted, and mashed the avocado with some sugar. Funny, it was pretty darn wet. You wouldn't think something so small had that much to it. When some cookies had cooled their heels long enough, we slathered the green good on 'em. They were a sight too glisten-y for our liking.
Tracy flashed her whip, thickening things up with some flour and corn starch. I made a twisted sort of grin, improvised a double-boiler, and heated a beaten egg with sugar, then scrambled the avocado mixture with it. That's more like it. But a taste of power made me crazy for more, and I cackled as half a packet of gelatin dissolved into boiling water, and added to the mess. No more heat for this hombre; into the freezer.
Our posse took down that dessert. It may not have been pretty, and it may have been overly gelatinous and strangely savory, but we got the job done. Yep. Time for us amigos to skedaddle, hit the trail for another try.