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Flash Fiction |
Call him Cookie “What are you doing?” Mom said. Jeremy looked up at his mother, “I’m helping you.” “You’re… helping me?” “I thought I’d make dinner so you could rest. I heard you say you were ‘tired of this,’ so I’m making dinner so you can rest.” “That was not necessary. What are you doing with the flour?” “I knocked it over looking for sugar.” “What were you trying to make?” “Cookies.” “Cookies?” “I know you like cookies.” “I already have plans for dinner…” “Is that cookies?” Is what like cookies?” “Plans.” “Plans is not a food. Plans are things you decide to do.” “I want to make dinner!” “Maybe we could start with sandwiches…?” “Peanut butter and jelly?” “Sure! Make one for Dad too.” “Oh! I forgot Dad… Does he like peanut butter sandwiches?” “I think so. Can I help you?” “Yes! Will you put the dishes on the table like I do when you cook?” “Absolutely.” They went to work. When Dad got home, an hour later, he walked in with a bag. “Surprise!” Jeremy and Mom yelled as he came in the door. Dad jumped and said, “You scared me!” and they all laughed. “What’s in the bag?” Jeremy asked. “I stopped and got some ice cream as a surprise.” “I made our dinner as a surprise!” Jeremy said, excited! Dad winked at Mom; he’d already eaten a real dinner on the way home, due to a sneaky phone call. Dinner was fun, and got repeated many times a year. Eventually involving real cooking once Jeremy was older. Jeremy grew up to be a cook, opening his own restaurant in his early thirties. Quite famous by his forties! And it all started out with cookies for dinner. So, he named his restaurant, Cookies. And that’s why everybody calls him Cookie. |