Anastasia dipped the long shortbread fingers into the blood red icing and placed a toasted almond fingernail at the other end. There was something about halloween cookies that brought a smile to her face, as if in that edible art were all the emotions she'd been made to repress, to deny, to pretend she was a "good girl."
Tammy stirred candy eyeballs into the dough grinning as she did so, making pun after pun even as she laid them out upon the baking papered tray.
The shortbread sandwiches, rolled in rainbow sprinkles, had a pumpkin stamp on top. Lizzie had called them, "I Scream Scrumpkins," and despite their almost-too-perfect appearance, they were the hit of the halloween ball.
Upon the table sit the greyest tombstone cookies Emmanuel has ever seen, his eyes widen to read the letters, not RIP, but VIP. He grins, perhaps this will be a great birthday-halloween after all.
The halloween cookie sit within a pirate's chest, each with the appearance of a large and staring eye ball. Whilst icing is white, the pupil is black and around it radiate bloody red veins. Kev, as usual, has made a verbal-visual pun, for next to them is a tea-stained note declaring, "Eye eye, Captain!"
As we enter the house there is the aroma of pumpkin spice infused with coffee notes, and there upon the counter are Grandma's family-famous halloween cookies. They are a pumpkin shape, each a gregarious brilliant orange, with a simple swirl of green icing to make a verdant stem.
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