No family is complete without an Aunt Carroll. She will supply the ‘brood’ with a train load of Christmas cookies freshly baked in her loving kitchen. Her maternal instincts were slightly tarnished when her only daughter turned out to be the devil’s seed with major behavioral problems. Four expulsions, seven different social workers and two trips to the police precinct, all before age eight, set the bar just above ground zero. Large doses of pharmaceuticals did not improve the situation, and poor Aunt Carroll grew tired of the phrase, “try this”. With mounting medical bills, irate people unable to cope with the hurricane-like destruction of the little bitch, and a mild mannered, religious husband whose whereabouts are still unknown to this day, Aunt Carroll sought solace in cooking scrumptious goodies for the family. Shortly after “Typhoon Tina” was permanently installed at a non-descript, remote institutional facility, Aunt Carroll immersed herself in the culinary subtleties of dessert creations, learning and experimenting with numerous sugars and spices to induce in the human brain, a heroin-like addiction to her concoctions. Her existence in a rural Wisconsin community denied her of any exposure to fame and fortune, but in her immediate clan, she is The Queen of the Christmas Cookies. For years, Aunt Carroll fervently mailed out boxes of Christmas cookies, especially to her in-laws, as if to express no hard feelings about her 295 pound ex-husband, Terry, who somehow could not find the strength to face the ordeals that his seed had inspired. He was always seen smiling as he sat at the table devouring the steaks that he so enjoyed. His wife Carroll, a quiet, studious beauty, was a first class researcher, who knew that without a body, no murder charges could be filed and that a vitamin A ladened liver from a carnivore cannot be consumed in any appreciable amounts, or a fatal poisoning will besiege the victim. Would anyone care for a cookie?