In the village of Cattlestruck, a young boy who does not go by any name, would often find himself in rather bothersome predicaments. These predicaments upset the boy. But all is well, for his mom would always find a way to patch him up, figuratively, since the boy wasn't hurt, but merely sad.  Whatever the mother had tried to make his boy happy would not be enough for the young one, except for cookies. And this would rid the boy away from all his problems in the blink of an eye. Cookies, made with oats and chocolate chips.

A Saturday means no pickles. But how is it that the boy would somehow always get tangled with issues that no boy should concern himself with? On a fine Saturday afternoon where and how did this boy find himself in a pickle again?

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Once again he went up to the place he called home, to his kitchen where the cookies were kept. He climbed up above the shelves what would he see? The cookie jar was empty!

A Saturday means yes cookies,  so he waited until sundown. Hours passed, and the empty cookie jar was still just a jar. Not bowing down to his disappointment, he persisted and waited by the shelves in the kitchen, until the mother would put some more cookies in the jar. Weeks passed, but no cookies went inside the jar. The boy waited and waited for his mother to save himself from his neverending sad mood, and starved to death while waiting for cookies. Alas, his persistence to sit back and wait, led to his demise.

The boy died too early before he became a man. If only he had become a man, if only he'd learn to bake his own cookies. A child who never grows, is the saddest kind of child.