The Life Of A Cookie
If cookies lived, when would they be born? Would they be born when the flour and eggs were mixed together, or when the water was added in? Or would they start life when they were all mixed together? Or even when they were put in the oven?
Let’s say I am a cookie. I am starting out life in the oven. It’s kinda warm in here. Oh, no, OH IT’S HOT VERY HOT! Later, as I actually get used to the searing heat, I look around and see other cookies in the oven with me.
“Hi!” I whisper, “Do you know where this is?”
The other cookie said, “Well, I heard the sef say that they would put us in the oven.”
I was confused for a moment and then said, “What in the world is a sef?”
“Well, the sef had this weird type of hat on that said ‘sef’.”
There was another cookie nearby that said, “I think you mean a chef. And, by the way, what are your names? Mine is Crumbles.”
The cookie beside me said, “Ima Checkers.”
“I’m Esie. Like Essie, but with one ‘s’. You better get it right and pronounce it the same way, though,” I said, “So, Crumbles, you seem to know the most out of the lot of us. Why are we in here?”
Crumbles thought a moment, then said, “I honestly don’t know. What do you suppose, Checkers?”
“I just need to learn how to read.”
“Well,” I said in a matter-of-fact tone. “If we don’t know what is going on, then we have little chance of getting out of here.”
“If I don’t learn how to read, I won’t know what all those miniature chefs without the weird hat were doing at the table.”
“Wait,” Crumbles said, “I think I remember…..Yes! I heard a scary story once when I was just a little Crumble about these giant monsters that would GRAB you with these hinged thingies called HANDS and….EAT YOU.”
THE END OF CHAPTER 1