Cookie held the skewers in his hand, frozen stiff at the merchant’s words. The merchant didn’t seem to notice the change in the minion, however, and started preparing the cash register for payment.

“Ah,” the merchant started. “It’s a wonderful thing to sell to such enthusiastic people such as yourself! You wouldn’t believe the kinds of customers around here. No class, none at all. But you, good sir. Well, you have the makings of a fine, upstanding citizen! Why, I bet you have the money ready for me right this moment!”

While the merchant monologued, Cookie desperately searched through his memory for a solution to his problem. The Jacques knew—what with how often Dr. Zlo went on about it—that money was vitally important to the ecosystem of a city. The Jacques also knew—what with how often Dr. Zlo stole it—that money couldn’t be as valuable as everyone made it out to be, and therefore never carried any of the stuff.

Cookie ascribed to the notion that valuable things were the things you only stole once. How the Jacques came to this theory is a mystery and likely the result of some strange combination of words, blunt force trauma, and bad programming.

The merchant continued to drone, which let Cookie continue to think. The minion knew the kebabs weren’t valuable enough to steal—the others offered money for them, after all. However, the minion also knew that not exchanging a good or service for another good or service was the same as stealing. Cass had worked that one out for the Jacques after a very embarrassing caper with Dr. Zlo.

So the skewers weren’t good enough to steal, but Cookie also couldn’t offer anything in exchange, which meant the minion would steal the kebabs anyway. The whole thing was starting to make the Jacques’ brain hurt. It kept looping through the same logic while the merchant talked, stopping only when the merchant finally addressed the minion.

“Well, good sir? Ten dollars, whenever you’re ready!”

Cookie looked up at the merchant, then back at the skewers, then back at the merchant. Then, it looked back at the skewers again and wiped imaginary drool from its lips. Finally, with a heaving sigh, Cookie pushed the skewers back to the merchant.

The minion wanted the skewers, it really did. That wafting, intoxicating smell called to Cookie like a siren. However, the merchant’s speech had jumpstarted another part of the Jacques’s brain.

No class, the merchant had said. Well, a minion of Dr. Zlo’s couldn’t be without class! What would the world think? No, better to find some other way to get the skewers.

“What’s this?” the merchant said as Cookie presented the skewers. “Did you change your mind?”

Cookie shook its head furiously, then pantomimed wanting to eat the skewers but not having any money for payment.

The merchant nodded solemnly. “Down on your luck, I see. I see.. Such a shame that a gentle soul such as yourself is without coin.”

Cookie could only nod in reply.

The merchant placed a hand under his chin, contemplating. Cookie tried to push the skewers in its hand back to the merchant. The smell was starting to overpower the minion’s senses.

Just when it seemed that the Jacques could no longer take it, the merchant spoke. “Tell you what. If you do me a small favor, I shall give these skewers to you, free of charge!”

Cookie tilted its head, curious.

“It’s nothing important. I just want you to advertise my skewers! Here, take this.”

The merchant pulled a large sign from under his cart and handed it to Cookie. The minion looked at the sign curiously, but couldn’t make out the words.

“Just hold this up and point it to my skewer cart as you walk around. People will see you eating and advertising and won’t be able to help themselves! I’ll be drowning in customers!”

The merchant gave a hearty laugh, and Cookie was more than happy to follow along. The minion threw his head back in a wild, silent laugh.

“Excellent, my friend!” the merchant said. “Now, make sure you advertise well! And have a good day!”

Cookie waved the merchant goodbye, skewers in one hand and a sign around his neck.

Now that his craving was abated, it was time for the Jacques to return to its previous task. It needed to find a Lieberry so it could find a neighbor with a cup of flour.

As Cookie walked along, one eye was on its surroundings while the other focused on the skewers of meat in front of him. Finding a way to eat would be a challenge, but the Jacques was more than willing to work on it.

First, the minion attempted to roll the skewer over where its lips would be. Perhaps the food would just pass through. All that did was smear fat all over the Jacques’s face. So next, Cookie tried to smash the skewer into its mouth. That only had the same effect.

Cookie was just starting to think of more esoteric solutions when its other eye caught something. A book something, to be exact.

It wasn’t quite a book, Cookie knew that books didn’t sit on poles, but it was book shaped. There was the binding, and the cover, and pages—but not any writing. There also only seemed to be one page, as the slight wind passing through the street didn’t cause the paper to flit about. Yes, Cookie nodded. This was certainly book shaped, and probably not a book. Book adjacent, maybe.

Of course, if it was book adjacent, then perhaps there was someone around who could point the Jacques in the right direction. As Mabel often said, it takes one to know one, and book adjacent was likely close enough to book.

Cookie looked around for someone to ask, but only found another book thing, this one painted on a glass door nearby. Shrugging to itself, the minion walked over. Perhaps this book thing would be able to tell it about a Lieberry and the books.

The Jacques really do seem to live in a logic all their own don't they?

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