Author's Notes: This story was written for PaintTheTownGREEN's COOKIEfiction contest in Gaiaonline - the requirements was basically to write a story that's based on a cookie. This story was inspired by Leslie Norris' story Snowdrops. The name "Mrs. King" came from my kindergarten teacher. A few things written here actually came from the actions of my school librarian like turning the clock upside down, so the story is also dedicated to him. Last but not least, if possible, I reccomend you all to read the picture book "Who's in the Loo?" by author Jeanne Willis and illustrator Adrian Reynolds. Take it from me... it's worth it. Enjoy!!

It's Not Just a Cookie

“Observe the art of seduction. Watch, learn, and don't eat my cookie.” – Phoebe, “Friends”.

A smack of her tongue. A purse of her lips. The click of her teeth. A hand reaching into the container. Grabbing a victim. Taking it out… And then…

Munch.

Munch, munch, munch…

Yuuuummmmmm.

She ate her cookies, one by one, and repeated the routine, again and again. Jimmy looked up and tilted his head slightly, his fingers frozen momentarily. The red crayon was still pressing against the sheet of white printout paper she had given him earlier. He had drawn an apple using a black pencil and was now colouring it, adding the shades of reds, yellows and oranges. Some brown here, some light green there. Jimmy knew he was an observant child. Because when Mrs. King saw his work, she smiled and pinned his work up. She said he was a good drawer. She said she had never seen a better apple before.

That made him smile. She was so kind.

But she was also selfish. Wasn’t she? That’s why she’s eating those cookies… and she hadn’t even asked him if he wanted one. Wasn’t that selfish? Jimmy wondered that if he had drawn a cookie, would she notice that he wanted one as well?

He could see it. Chocolate chips, his favourite. The golden colour, tinged with the dark brown specks of the better-tasting chocolate. Last time Jimmy had a cookie, he had taken out all the dark bits out to eat and left the golden bit out on the plate. Mommy got angry at him for that and he had to finish the icky golden parts by himself. Jimmy blinked and looked at Mrs. King again. He could see that she wasn’t eating properly. The crumbs were falling, landing on the table. And at the bottom of the container, he could see the dark bits of the cookie without the golden bits. He wondered…

Maybe Mrs. King won’t mind if I take the dark bits… And she can have the golden parts. Those are bigger. Jonny said that because he’s bigger, he needs to eat more, that’s why he always took all my candy. But I don’t mind. And there are a lot of golden parts of a cookie instead of the dark ones. So if I have the dark ones, it won’t do anything to Mrs. King. Because I’m still taking the little parts and I’m still letting her eat the bigger parts...

The little boy continued to think to himself and unconsciously, he would swing his legs.

Back and forth, Munch and smack, Back and forth, Munch and smack…

Like a clock, it had a rhythm. Jimmy smiled to himself. Once, his Mrs. King had played a game with the class where she turned the clock upside down. But the clock still worked properly. The numbers were upside down, but the longest arrow didn’t move upside down. Wonder why… How strange.

Jimmy sighed as Mrs. King took another cookie from the large container. All his friends were outside, enjoying their game of “hide and seek”, but he asked to stay inside because he wasn’t feeling very well.

But Jimmy knew… to make him feel better, he needed a cookie.

He leaned forward slightly and pressed his chest against the table, his chin a few centimetres from the surface of the wood. His hazel eyes continued to burn into her and he blinked, once, twice, thrice… to her and her cookies.

He had to get one cookie.

Mommy always said that smiling is the best cure. But how could he smile when he wanted a cookie? He could eat his lunch, but Jimmy didn’t think that he wanted that now. A peanut butter sandwich, a banana, a pack of cheese strings, a large orange juice carton and a small cup of yoghurt. He always liked his lunch, but this time… all he wanted was a cookie. Just one. Even if he could have the dark bits, it would be good.

But how could he get one?

Mommy said that stealing wasn’t good. So Jimmy didn’t want to, even when he knew that Mrs. King didn’t have good eyes. And he knew that Mrs. King didn’t have good eyes because last week, Emily drew an apple and she said that it was the best apple she had seen. So she was either lying, or she couldn’t see good enough, because she said that Jimmy’s apple was the best she had seen back then. But Mommy also said that lying wasn’t good, so Mrs. King could never do such a thing like lying. She must’ve seen the picture wrong, so she made a mistake.

And Jimmy already forgave Mrs. King for what she did.

Should he just ask her for a cookie? Would that be wise? Jimmy knew Mrs. King since forever, and Mrs. King never did anything bad to him. But to ask for a cookie? Maybe she’s like Jonny, who would always give him lifts and take him home on his big bike… but would always be so nasty whenever Jimmy had some extra candy. Jimmy never really knew much about Mrs. King, but he knew enough to know that she’s a kind teacher… but at the same time, Jonny was a good big brother, and yet… he could still be nasty. What would be the difference with Mrs. King? They’re both older… they both eat a lot… they’re both kind to him except a few times (Jonny especially). Would asking for a cookie hurt?

Mrs. King suddenly stood up and Jimmy’s eyes widened in surprise. Hurriedly, he bowed his head and continued to colour his apple – not that he could do anything. Some point during his long reverie, the crayon snapped and he couldn’t use it anymore. But he didn’t need to. Because suddenly, Mrs. King put her hand on his shoulder and pulled the picture of the apple from his hands. She looked at it. She smiled.

“This is the best apple I’ve ever seen!” Mrs. King said happily.

Now that’s three times in a row. Jimmy decided that for Christmas, he would ask his Mommy if he could get Mrs. King some glasses like the one Mr. Abbey wears. But a lot smaller than what he wears. Less scary. And not too dark. And not too thick. Just right for Mrs. King.

That’s right.

Mrs. King walked over to the blackboard and pinned the picture of an apple beside it where, miraculously, Emily’s picture had disappeared. Jimmy hadn’t noticed that.

He thanked his teacher and walked over to his bag where he took out his lunchbox and a book called “Who’s In The Loo?”. It was a funny book, full of pretty pictures and his favourite was at the end, when they found out that it was Mr. Octopus, washing his eight hands. Jimmy sat back at his table and flipped the book open, but he pushed his chair back slightly so he could put the lunchbox on his lap. If he put it on the table, he wouldn’t be able to see his food properly because it would be too high up.

As he bit into his sandwich, Mrs. King sat back down and started to look through the big, thick, dark brown book again, munching her cookies. Jimmy wondered why she always read that book. It was boring. There weren’t any pictures, the words were too small like ants, and it’s also so long that sometimes, it would take ages to say the word right. He would stick to his “Who’s in the Loo?”, thank you.

With pictures.

Forever.

Feeling very much happy with himself, Jimmy smiled triumphantly and looked at his book again. He flipped another page… and his eyes wandered around... to look at the container of cookies... again. There were so many in there, he wondered what it tasted like. Even though he knew that cookies were all the same. When you bite into one, you feel the weird surface of it… and then it crumbles when you munch it, and you can taste the cookie, sweet and delicious, especially with those dark bits inside that melts on your tongue…

Shaking his head, Jimmy continued to eat his lunch. He imagined his sandwich to be a cookie, but the peanut butter was too rough. He imagined his banana as a cookie, but it was too soft. He imagined his pack of cheese strings as a cookie, but it was too thin and stringy. He imagined his orange juice to be a cookie, but there’s no crunch and he couldn’t bite it without spilling it over his red shirt. He even tried to imagine his cup of yoghurt to be a cookie, but it was too creamy.

After finishing his lunch, Jimmy sighed.

Nothing was like a cookie.

Mrs. King looked over to Jimmy and smiled. She crouched in front of him and held out the container. “I know you’ve eaten so much already, Jimmy, but would you like a cookie? It wouldn’t be polite for me not to offer one, especially when I have so many of it.” She offered.

Jimmy looked at the container, eyes wide. “But I didn’t ask for one.” He pointed out, surprised.

“I know you didn’t, honey. But I thought you like cookies. I’m surprised you didn’t ask for one.” She laughed slightly.

Little Jimmy looked at the teacher then, scanning her pale green eyes and smooth skin. She was just like Miss Honey – a teacher he had heard a few older girls talk about who taught Matilda – but Jimmy never knew a Miss Honey in school, nor had he known a girl called Matilda… but he knew that whoever she was, she must’ve been really, really nice.

Happily, he took one of the largest cookies from the container and said his biggest thanks with his biggest smile that he could give her. And, without further ado, he munched the cookie.

He felt it crumble in his mouth… and he felt the chocolate melting on his tongue. It was delicious. It smelled good.

And best of all… it was a cookie.