Method:
? Preheat the—Nope! Not this time. You will NOT need an oven, just the stovetop. Lazarus’ crypt doesn’t even have an oven, so there’s that.
? Line two baking sheets with parchment paper or a silicone mat and set aside.
? In a large, heavy pot, combine the butter, sugar, milk, and cocoa powder.
? Stir over medium heat, and let the ingredients combine.
? When the mixture begins to bubble, let it simmer for only sixty seconds.
? Remove mixture from heat (don’t just turn off the heat, you have to take it off the burner for this one, or you’ll get a gritty, scorched chocolate mess.
? Stir in peanut butter, oats, vanilla, and salt if desired. Mix until combined.
? This mixture will quickly begin to set up. Drop scoops of about two tablespoons each onto the parchment paper.
? Let the cookies sit at room temperature until cool and firm. If you’re impatient (like me), you can put these in the fridge for fifteen minutes.
? Store in an airtight container in a cool, dry place or the fridge for best results.
Christmas with the Criminals
Starring Lazarus and Victoria fromSecondhand Souland Manny and Rhea fromMonsters, Marriage, and Mistletoe
“Lazarus. Lazarus, come back here and listen like a man instead of a three-year-old." Manny leaves the service office and chases me into the stockroom.
“Hey, there's only a little bit more than that on my clock, but I'm never going to get any older, am I?” I wear a bitter smile and come to a halt, not because my boss told me to, but because I’m where I want to be, in front of the oil filter shelves.
“Sweet Jesus, not this again. We play the hand we're dealt, kid. You got out of California and came here for a better life, and everyone has welcomed you with open arms. Rhea! Rhea, will you come talk to your son?"
I bite my tongue. Manny and Rhea adopted me on sight. When I escaped from the demented mobster and his sorcery-happy henchmen, I never imagined I’d find anyone else in the world who looked like me, or who knew what it was like to be “made” instead of born. Even if I wanted to snap, “You’re not my parents!” I would never do that to the beautiful “Bride of Frankenstein” rushing toward me.
“Sweetie, you shouldn’t even try to have this conversation on an empty stomach. Both of you get cranky when you’re hungry.” Rhea passes through the shop and straightens my wild white hair—which instantly resists her touch and goes right back to an untidy mess that makes me look like I’ve been electrified (shocker) and gives me Goblin King vibes.
“This isn’t about being hungry!” I call out, but Rhea’s already heading back to the tiny little galley kitchen behind the service office.
“What is it about?” Manny asks.
“I don’t want to be around all of those people. All of the fa-la-la-la-losers who get together with strangers and celebrate.”
“Once you meet people, they stop being strangers,” he points out.
“Ha ha, very profound.” But it is kinda true.
“Victoria’s going to be there.”
Victoria. Ooh. Images of the leggy brunette slide into place faster than they should. Dark hair. Dark soul. The only person in this town outside of Manny and Rhea who might even be considered my friend—when we’re speaking to each other.
“You save one little assassin from an open grave, and suddenly everyone thinks you’re pals,” I mutter, shelving oil filters.
The thing is, I was made to be an assassin myself, and I’m trying to be a nice guy—at least to Manny and Rhea, because I like them and they’re like family. And they gave me a job.
And I fucking caught their oven on fire on Thanksgiving morning.
“Victoria’s lonely. I don’t think she’d come except Rhea talked her into it.” Manny stands next to me, clipboard in hand.
“We have all of this organized in the system. Don’t try to fool me with the old clipboard routine.”
