Pictou was sitting down at his desk at school, hard at work. He was writing down some notes on Mrs. Balsey's lectures in his exercise book.
Suddenly, Stewiacke and his buddies surged into the room rather abruptly and offensively. Stewiacke, very uncouthly, picked up one of Mrs. Balsey's black marker pens for writing on her whiteboard, and he scrawled, "Pictou is a stinx!", on Mrs. Balsey's whiteboard, very disrespectfully.
Pictou, gasping in extreme shock and horror, and staring blankly at the insult on Mrs. Balsey's whiteboard, all of a sudden, wet his pants. The smell of ammonia wafted in the air. "Ooh, my…" he murmured to himself very gently, but extremely shocked and horrified.
"Hey! Shoo! Shoo!" Mrs. Balsey exclaimed somewhat angrily at Stewiacke and his buddies, flapping both her hands up and down at them to try and drive them all out of her classroom. Pictou's ammonia odour was strengthening by the second. "Uh, Mrs. Balsey?" Pictou asked her politely. "Yes, Pictou?" "May I go to the bathroom, please? I need to change myself." "Alright." "Thanks," Pictou replied very courteously. He left Mrs. Balsey's classroom very graciously, and strolled down the corridor to the boys' bathroom, his ammonia reek now very strong.
Pictou entered the boys' bathroom, but unfortunately, he didn't see the attendant in front of him, so he accidentally collided with him! He gasped as he unintentionally knocked into the attendant, and he turned to him.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" clamoured Pictou apologetically. "That's alright," replied the attendant gladly. "No problem," Pictou smiled in acceptance. His ammonia odour was now extremely potent.
Pictou entered one of the cubicles, and he shut and locked the door behind himself. He unfastened his suspenders and pulled his pants down. His ammonia stench was now at its peak.
Pictou removed his wet diaper, and he disposed of it. He wiped his intimate parts with a piece of toilet tissue, putting it in the toilet afterwards. Pictou put on a fresh, dry diaper, pulled his pants back up, re-fastened his suspenders, and flushed the toilet.
Pictou unlocked and opened the door, and he washed his hands with liquid soap and warm water, drying them off at one of the hand-dryers afterwards. He left the boys' bathroom to return to Mrs. Balsey's class.
Pictou was ambling around in the school field at lunchtime, when he caught sight of Stewiacke and his buddies, all talking to each other. "Ah-ha!" he shouted angrily at them. "Eh?" Stewiacke and his buddies all replied rather hastily in astonishment, whipping around rapidly to face Pictou. "And who you think YOU'RE picking on?" Pictou asked them all tetchily.
"Eh… You, stinko?" Stewiacke replied uneasily. "Well, yes," Pictou agreed with that unfortunate but sad truth, nodding his head rather slowly and unhappily, smiling somewhat glumly. Stewiacke and his buddies all guffawed very meanly.
Pictou frowned crossly again, and he stomped up closer to the bullies with an irascible wrath. "Well, let me make one thing clear," he griped. "You make my life a misery! All of you!"
Stewiacke and his friends all watched in huge shock and terror. "I've had enough of you and your stupid things!" Pictou yelled furiously at all three of them. "And you should all know that I'm not as weak as you think I am!" "He's right!" Hantsport agreed with Pictou, very sadly.
Pictou, full of newfound confidence, smiled sweetly, and he turned around and phoned his parents. "Mom, you know those bullies?" he asked his mother. "Yes?" Port Hawkesbury replied on the phone. She was at the Dalsea Street Shopping Centre in west-Central Canada with Stellarton. "Well," Pictou continued, still smiling delightfully, "I stood up to them."
Port Hawkesbury gasped very joyfully. "Aw, that's my boy!" she exclaimed really blissfully. Stellarton, who was also smiling extremely gleefully, wrote this down in his notebook. "You're such a sweetheart, Pictou," he crooned to Pictou over the phone, so lovingly. Pictou, who was hearing his parents' really cheerful voices over the phone, couldn't help but smile extremely elatedly with both of them, too.
Port Hawkesbury was in the Denoons' kitchen with Pictou, crying in great melancholy at him. "My dear, you're thirteen now," she sobbed very sorrowfully to him. "That means you need to be a bit more independent." "Yes, I will," Pictou replied in all seriousness, nodding his head really slowly in very solemn acceptance.
Port Hawkesbury sniffled very softly. "How about you make something, Pictou?" she suggested to him, trying not to sound tearful. "Alright," Pictou assented, in a very sombre tone. "Good boy," Port Hawkesbury praised him so kindly.
Pictou took out a black-and-white-striped apron from the kitchen upholstery drawer, tying the sash around his waist, closing the drawer afterwards. He retrieved one of the Denoons' cookbooks and turned to a page containing a recipe for chocolate chip cookies. He fetched a sack of soft white flour, some slightly softened butter, some white sugar, a pack of dark chocolate chips, an egg, a bottle of fresh, skimmed milk, and some Acadian spice. (Pictou loves adding an Acadian twist of spice to everything he eats, or, soon enough, cooks, for that matter…)
Pictou decanted some of the flour, a tablespoon of butter, another tablespoon of sugar, and a tablespoon of the Acadian spice into a large, clear glass bowl. He cracked the egg into the bowl, and he poured in a pint of the milk, too. He whisked all his ingredients together in the bowl to make the cookie batter, sniffing the air, catching a very smooth aroma of milk and cream in the atmosphere.
Pictou prepared a baking tray with some kitchen foil. He set the Denoons' oven to the correct temperature, as defined in the (slightly modified for him) recipe in his cookbook, and dolloped some splotches of his cookie batter on his prepared baking tray. He sprinkled some of the dark chocolate chips liberally on all of them. Covering his hand with an oven glove to shield it from the extremely high heat, he, very carefully, opened the oven door and slid his tray into the oven, then he closed the oven door.
Unexpectedly, Pictou peed his pants. The horrible stink of ammonia was now also in the air, along with the really velvety scent of milk and cream. "Oh. I better do that myself," he laughed, very gently, but so endearingly. He went upstairs to the Denoons' bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind himself. His ammonia odour was now very strong.
Pictou unhitched his suspenders and pulled his pants down. His ammonia stench was now at its pinnacle. He took his wet diaper off and disposed of it, then he cleaned his intimate parts with a piece of toilet tissue, putting it in the toilet subsequently.
Pictou put a fresh, dry diaper on. He pulled his pants back up and re-hitched his suspenders, then he flushed the toilet and washed his hands with liquefied soap and tepid water, drying them off on the handtowel hung up on a hook beside the bathroom sink after that.
Pictou returned to the kitchen, and whilst he was waiting with a great deal of patience for his cookies to be all cooked and ready, he read through one of the Denoons' many cookery magazines.
Finally, after quite a long time, the oven pinged at a very high pitch and very stridently, indicating that Pictou's cookies had been fully cooked. Pictou sniffed the lovely, delicious aroma of freshly-baked cookies in the air.
Protecting his hand from the tremendously extreme heat with his oven glove again, Pictou taking great care, opened the oven door, and took his freshly-cooked, heated cookies out of the oven. He, very prudently, closed the oven door again and switched the oven off. Pictou carried his searing tray of freshly-baked, hot cookies very cautiously, but smiling really sweetly.
Port Hawkesbury and Stellarton both entered the kitchen, and they both caught sight of Pictou, who was carrying his torrid tray of freshly-cooked, piping-hot cookies very carefully, but smiling so adorably. "Oh, Pictou!" Port Hawkesbury exclaimed with immense joy. "You did that all by yourself!" She picked Pictou up and embraced him very snugly. "And I heard. You're becoming so independent now, dear!" "Yes, I am," Pictou agreed with her delightedly, smiling very gladly, nodding his head with approval. Stellarton, who was also smiling very cheerfully, jotted down some more notes on today in his notebook.
"Let's try some," Port Hawkesbury insinuated, who wanted to try out the delectable taste for herself, and so did Stellarton for himself. Each Denoon took a cookie for themselves and bit into it. They both munched pleasingly on both their cookies, tasting all the lovely flavours in both their mouths. "Oh, this is really tasty, Pictou," Stellarton enthused. "Yes," Pictou acquiesced with him, giggling so pleasurably with a lot of amiability.
Then, Pictou had a totally excellent idea. "How about we bake some more batches of cookies for the whole city to try out for themselves?" he proposed very animatedly. "Good idea, Picky-tou," Port Hawkesbury accepted very gleefully. "Let's do it!"
With vast gusto, Pictou got on with baking even more batches of cookies to give out to people all around the city, so that they could taste all the delightful essences for themselves.
Pictou, Port Hawkesbury and Stellarton were all strolling down an almost traffic-free city street, all together. Pictou was carrying a seagrass basket with a handle on top very securely in his curled-up hands, filled with bundles of his specialty, home-baked, Acadian-spice chocolate chip cookies inside.
The Denoons all stopped off at a house, where a young man was relaxing on his deckchair in his back yard. "Here, catch!" Pictou called out very loudly and gregariously to him, tossing a cookie at him. "Oh, thanks!" he hollered back to him very noisily and genially. Pictou smiled with great pleasure, and the young man ate his cookie with a lot of delight.
The Denoons all continued ambling down the nearly traffic-street, which eventually led onto the Canadian Promenade. They all saw the Canadian Beach in front of themselves. The balmy, infinite sea sparkled a sapphire blue so vibrantly with the blazing-hot sun shining down extremely brilliantly on it. The Denoons all descended the stairs down to the Beach.
A swimmer was wallowing around very pleasurably in the warm sea. He suddenly caught sight of all of Pictou's cookies, all mounted up in his seagrass basket, very tightly secured in his rolled-up hands, and he rushed up to all the Denoons, panting extremely heavily. Pictou very kindly gave him a cookie. "Thanks," smiled the swimmer joyfully, and Pictou smiled jubilantly, too.
The Denoons all approached the beach's lifeguard. Pictou flung a cookie up to him, and he caught it. "Thanks," he accepted with great glee. "Alright," Pictou acceded back to him, very gladly.
The Denoons all ascended back up the stairs from down on the Beach back up onto the Canadian Promenade. They all strolled on, until they all spotted an old man sitting down on a bench, taking a break from walking all around the city the entire morning. Pictou handed him a cookie. "Thanks," the old man accepted very gladly. "No problem," Pictou smiled in approval, so cheerfully.
The Denoons all kept on ambling down the Canadian Promenade. All of a sudden, Pictou relieved himself in his pants. The terrible stink of ammonia drifted around in the air. "Oh," he muttered very softly. Then, he smiled so pleasantly. He inserted a quarter into the coin slot for the public convenience, and he went inside to get changed, shutting and locking the door behind himself.
A few minutes later, Port Hawkesbury and Stellarton both heard the toilet flushing from inside the public convenience. The door was unlocked and opened from inside, and Pictou came out, wearing a fresh, dry diaper. "So, who next," he asked himself, smiling very joyfully, his seagrass basket still very strongly fixed in his rolled-up hands.
The Denoons all turned down another almost traffic-free street, and they all carried on strolling.
The Denoons all turned into the original Central Canada branch of Fredericton's Fantastic Funhouse. They all approached Fredericton and Nanaimo. Fredericton was speaking on his phone to a customer who was booking a children's birthday party at the very first branch of his highly infamous funhouse, whereas Nanaimo was squatting down just right beside him. The Denoons all waited with great patience for Fredericton to finish his phone conversation.
At last, after quite a long while, Fredericton hung up his phone. "Oh? What are those? Cookies?" he asked Pictou, rather sarcastically, spotting all his cookies in his seagrass basket, very tightly secured in his rolled-up hands. "I usually have Nanaimo Bars, but I'll have one, anyway," said Nanaimo, somewhat disdainfully and reluctantly. "Well, here you go, then," Pictou tweeted to both of them very benevolently, granting them both a cookie each.
Fredericton and Nanaimo both took a huge bite out of both their cookies, tasting all the beautiful flavours in both their mouths. "Actually," Fredericton mumbled very inarticulately, with his mouth open and full, "these aren't THAT bad." "Ah-ha," Nanaimo agreed with him very inarticulately, with his mouth also open and full.
The Denoons all continued strolling down the nearly traffic-free street, and they all turned into the Canadian Park.
The Denoons all ambled down a very long-winding path inside the Canadian Park, and they all met Chicoutimi, the milkshake vendor. As he was French Canadian, Pictou conversed with him in French (well, obviously). He very generously gave him a cookie. "Merci," Chicoutimi gave Pictou his thanks in French very munificently. "Trés bien," Pictou replied in French so kindly.
The Denoons all continued to stroll down the very lengthy path inside the Canadian Park, until they all met all the members of the Canadian Dance Crew. They were all dancing extremely vigorously to an incredibly upbeat song, when they, all of a sudden, spotted Pictou and his seagrass basket, very strongly fixed in his rolled-up hands, entirely full of cookies. "Stop the music! I want a cookie!" one of the Crew members shouted out loud. Their Instructor paused the music on his portable stereo player, and the entire Crew huddled up over Pictou's seagrass basket of cookies, very tightly secured in his curled-up hands, all taking one cookie for themselves. They all returned back to their places, the Instructor resumed the music on his portable stereo player, and they all began to dance very energetically to the really cheery-sounding music once again. Stellarton made some more notes on today in his notebook.
The Denoons all kept on ambling down the very elongated path inside the Canadian Park, when suddenly, a young man wearing a blue helmet on his head, riding his bicycle so speedily and ringing his bell repeatedly at a very high volume, swiped a cookie really rapidly off Pictou. "Hey!" Pictou clamoured very hurriedly after him with great surprise, then he giggled very heartily and good-naturedly.
The Denoons all carried on strolling down the very long-winding path inside the Canadian Park. They met Kitchener, the cook. "Oh! A mini-me," he remarked, giggling so delightfully, catching sight of Pictou. "Let me have a cookie." Just like he said, Pictou handed him a cookie. "You know, sweetie, someday this will be a little business," he told Pictou, very sweetly and optimistically. "Yeah," agreed Pictou, beaming really brightly. "Well, off you go then, my little one." "Alright," Pictou accepted so smilingly.
Pictou and his parents all ambled off, and they all continued down the very lengthy path inside the Canadian Park. "He's so sweet," Kitchener cooed ever so caringly.
The Denoons all kept on strolling down the very elongated path inside the Canadian Park, and they came across a young man, who was reading the Canadian Times in a very focused and observant way. Pictou granted him a cookie. "Thanks," he accepted very cheerfully. "No problem," Pictou smiled in agreement, so joyfully.
The Denoons all went onto the grass inside the Canadian Park, and they all noticed Campbellton sitting down on a very comfortable chair in the middle of the enormous, emerald-green field. "Oh, cookies!" he exclaimed with a lot of astonishment. "Let me have one, dear." The Denoons all went up to him. Pictou sat down on Campbellton's left leg, feeling so cosy.
Campbellton took one of Pictou's cookies from his seagrass basket, very strongly fixed in his rolled-up hands, and began to munch on it with huge delectation. "Mmm, very tasty," he crooned very pleasurably with the delicious taste. "Aw," all the Denoons cooed so lovingly, all together.
Pictou, Port Hawkesbury, Stellarton and Campbellton all came together in one great big, really snug embrace.
Pictou looked up at the blue, absolutely cloudless summer sky. He gazed at the sun very carefully, then down at his seagrass basket, very tightly secured in his curled-up hands, completely filled with cookies, then down at himself. Then, he looked back up at the blue, totally clear summertime sky, and he beamed very brightly, the extremely hot sun illuminating his little face, ever so vividly.