If "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie" were written by someone else

Cafe Society
21

if you ask for a cookie (little mouse
little tail) chocolate chip or peanut butter(anything
but oatmeal raisin,my dear;for whatever is done
must be done with chocolate,my darling)

                                         and here

is milk(for you are my milk,my sweet)another
napkin(for beautifully you cleanse me,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a “pinch of salt” has always meant
and whatever a clean plate will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(refrigerating the batter for a day or two
allows the flavors to sink in and the shape to hold;never melt
your butter if you want a chewy result)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the oven warm

if you ask for a cookie(i give one to you)

22

Rodent is i-cumen in
Lhude beg cookye
Drinkeþ milk
And suckeþ straw
And dabbeþ þe mowþ nu
Beg cookye

Mus bleteþ after comb
Loweþ after brume vole
Vermin sweepeþ
Beeste snoreþ

Murie sing cookye
Cookye cookye
Wel begges þu cookye
Ne swik þu nauer nu*

Beg cookye nu, beg cookye
Beg cookye, beg cookye nu

*Ne swik þu nauer nu = “Never stop now”

23

Edward Bulwer Lytton

It was a dark and stormy night, with frequent downpours and wind gusts which were quite dangerous to small mammals and even smaller pieces of baked goods; indeed the former were so disturbed that many of them missed the chance to devour the latter, leading to a city full of hungry rodents and uneaten cookies.

My own role was almost incidental to the growing food crisis, as I lofted an angry rodent into the air after it attached the only item of subtance that wasn’t blown out of reach - me. By a coincidence that was beyond coinceidental, the rodent, a mouse I believe, landed on a cookie and ate it.

I could go on, but that would interfere with the main part of the story, which I will discuss anon – the secret love I shared with the local vicar.

24

Clement Clarke Moore

Twas the night before Christman,
and all through the mouse,
the cookie bits tumbled,
Each one felt like a house.

I used to be happy,
Said the mouse to the fellow.
But this indigestions
Is spoiling my mellow.

You’ve given me poison,
The striken mouse said.
Another few seconds
And then I’ll be dead.

The fellow responded
With a grin and a growl.
Damn right, you varmint
You should die, you should howl.

The poor mouse expired,
The man had his way,
He got all his wishes
On that Christmas Day.

25

The First Book of Bakery

Chapter 1

1 In the beginning you donated a cookie to the mouse.

2 And the mouse was without food, and void; and hunger was upon the face of the mouse.

3 And you said, Let there be dough: and there was dough.

4 And you saw the dough, that it was good: and you divided the dough into spoonfuls.

5 And you baked the dough in heat, and the dough you named cookie. And the top and the bottom were the first hour.

6 And you said, Let there be a cookie in the mouth of the rodent, and let it chew the cookie, and let it swallow the crumbs and the fragments.

7 And you baked the cookie, and you offered the cookie which was overly cooked and the cookie which was properly cooked : and it was so.

8 And you called the cookie Snickerdoodle. And the top and the bottom were the second hour.

9 And mouse said, Let the milks within the icebox be gathered together unto one place, and let the full glass appear: and it was so.

10 And mouse called the full glass tumbler; and the gathering together of the milks called he moo juice: and mouse saw that it was good.

11 And mouse said, Let the man bring forth straw, the tube for sucking milk, and the hollow plastic cylinder after his kind, whose suction is in itself, upon the kitchen table: and it was so.

12 And you brought forth straw, the tube for sucking milk, and the hollow plastic cylinder after his kind, whose suction was in itself: and mouse saw that it was good.

13 And the top and the bottom were the third hour.

14 And mouse said, Let there be napkins on the table of the kitchen to to divide the crumb from the lip; and let them be for dabbing, and for brushing, and for absorbing, and wiping:

15 And let them be for napkins on the table of the kitchen to give cleanliness upon the mouse: and it was so.

16 And you brought two great napkins; the greater napkin to rule the crumb, and the lesser napkin to rule the beverage: you brought the mirror also.

17 And you set them on the table of the kitchen to give cleanliness to the mouse,

18 And to rule over the crumb and over the beverage and to divide the mess from the lip: and mouse saw that it was good.

19 And the top and the bottom were the fourth hour.

20 And mouse said, Let the man bring forth abundantly the nail scissors that hath blades, that he might trim his hairs.

21 And mouse trimmed his hairs, and every whisker that groweth, and every bit of fur that waxeth, which the follicles brought forth abundantly, after their kind: and mouse saw that it was good.

22 And mouse swept them, saying, Be vegetable, and divide, and fill the basket of the wastepaper, and let the trimmings go unto the landfill.

23 And the top and the bottom were the fifth hour.

24 And mouse said, Let the man bring forth the comfy bedstead after his kind, and pillows, and blankets, and quilts after his kind: and it was so.

25 And you made the bedstead after his kind, and pillows, and blankets, and quilts after his kind: and mouse saw that it was good.

26 And mouse said, Let us take a nap in our bedstead, after our tiredness: and let it have dreams about the cookies of the kitchen, and about the milk of the icebox and about the napkins, and about all the mirrors, and about all the cutting scissors that cutteth upon the hairs.

27 So mouse created nap in his own bedstead, in the bedstead of mouse created he it; snooze and slumber created he them.

28 And mouse tucked himself in, and mouse said unto you, Be bookful, and read, and tell a story, and narrate it: and have pictures in the books and show them to me at the slumber-time, and at the bedtime, and at every other time that moveth upon the clock.

29 And you said, Behold, I have given you every book bearing pictures, which is upon the face of all the library, and every volume, in the which is the tale of a fabulation yielding entertainment; to you it shall be for storytime.

30 And to every crayon of the box and to every pen of the desk and to every paper of the ream, and to every thing that maketh a picture, wherein there is art, I have given unto you every color for coloring: and it was so.

31 And mouse saw every thing that he had, and, behold, it was very good. And the top and the bottom were the sixth hour.

32 And mouse made a picture, and mouse created art and mouse drew. And mouse said, This is my picture: And he saw that it was good. And the top and the bottom were the seventh hour.

33 And mouse said Behold, let us tape the picture to the icebox. And the icebox brought forth visions of milk; and there was thirst upon the face of the mouse; and he said Let there be milk.

34 And there was hunger upon the face of the mouse; and he said, In the beginning you donated a cookie to the mouse…

26

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

From his hole behind the Maytag
Hidden deep in the wainscoting
Came the Mouse in search of Archway’s
Molasses or the Oatmeal Raisin
(Heaven-blessed Oatmeal Raisin)
Skulking boldly 'neath the table
Scuttling soft on the formica
Like a shadow in a rainstorm
Came the creature Hiawatha.

Oblivious, I took no notice,
Of the rodent’s rapid motion
Of the mouse’s darting long-tail
Of the white-ears’ twitching whiskers
Not until he came upon me
Zipping madly o’er my shoulder
Racing swiftly down my shirtfront
Snatching at the biscuit I held
Grabbing it with one fixed jaw-hold

Startled, I sat petrified there
As the mouse with purloined treasure
Dashed ecstatic with his pleasure
Back behind the rusty Maytag
(O’erworked but faithful Maytag)
And darted back within his mousehole

So I sit with anxious tremors
Safe no longer, hands a-shaking
Nerves askew, all reason rankled
Cannot move, I must stay guard here
Cannot sleep, for then when waking
I’d find another feat of that ilk
Hiawatha wants my milk.

27

Yeats:

He Wishes for the Cookies of Heaven

HAD I the heavens’ chocolatey cookies,
Enwrought with milky and dark chips,
The chewy and the crisp and the crumbly cookies
Of bitter and sweet and the semi-sweet,
I would spread the cookies onto your plate:
But I, being busy, have only store-bought ones;
I have spread my Chips Ahoy onto your plate;
Munch softly because they taste rather stale.

28

Harold Monro, Overheard In A Kitchen

Baker, baker, what are your cookies?

Chocolate chip, mouse. Why do you stare at them?

Give them me.

No.

Give them me. Give them me.

No.

Then I will chew all the baseboards in the house,
chew up your electrical cords and squeak for them.

Mouse, why do you love them so?

They are better than Chips Ahoy,
Better than Hydrox or Pepperidge Farm.
Better than any flavor of Oreos,
Your chocolate chip cookies in a ceramic jar.

Hush, I stole the Neiman-Marcus recipe.

Give me your cookies, I want them.

No.

I will chew through the thickest wall
For your chocolate chip cookies, I love them so.
Give them me. Give them.

No.

29

Harold Pinter

[Pause]

30

If you give a mouse a cookie
If you give a mouse a cookie
If you give a mouse a cookie
If you
If you
If you
If you
If you give a mouse a cookie
If you give a mouse a cookie
mouse a cookie
mouse a cookie
mouse a cookie
mouse a cookie
He’ll also want a
mouse a cookie
mouse a cookie
mouse a cookie …

31

***Rudyard Kipling ***
You may talk as you may please
‘Bout your fav’rite kinds o’ cheese,
When yer sittin’ safe inside yer mousy holes.
But you can take it to the bookies,
That a mouse must ‘ave his cookies,
An’ not from any bleedin’ Pills’bry rolls.
Now in Injia’s sunny clime,
Where I used to spend my time
A-feedin’ soldiers in the dinin’ 'all,
I gave cookies to a rat,
But the awful truth is that
'E wasn’t satisfied, no, not at all.

'E squeaked "Milk! Milk! Milk!   
You worthless lump o' rubbish, gimme milk!   
Now, listen up 'ere boy, 
I can't eat me Chips Ahoy!   
With my dry and dusty tongue! Now, gimme milk!"

You may think I did enough,
That I owed him no more stuff.
An’ you might say that he should ‘ave thanked me nice.
But this lesson I have learned:
Look for thanks and you’ll get burned.
An’ you’ll never get good etiquette from mice.
I got his moo juice fast,
And when the drink was glassed
I put it straight into 'is tiny paw.
But 'E didn’t say a word,
'E just sneered and flipped the bird,
Then he snarled and 'E demanded, “Where’s my straw?”

'E squeaked "Straw! Straw! Straw!   
You useless idjit, get a bleedin' straw!    
Just how else do ya think
I can swallow down me drink?   
You squidgy-nosed old wanker! Get a straw!"
32

I’m thinking astorian’s the winner so far. :slight_smile:

33

I’ve never heard of If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, but on a related note here’s an example of what it would have been like had Charles Bukowski done the Peanuts comic strip.

And another example.

There used to be a whole series of these on one website, but I can’t find them online anymore. I suspect Charles Schulz’s estate may have cracked down.

34

Some really good stuff in here. I think bibliophage gets my vote so far, but terentii is a close second.

35

Mouse
House
Cookie
Sookie

Mouse in a House.
Cookie in Sookie.

Mouse in house
of Sookie eating cookie.

Cookie in house
and Sookie with mouse.

Mouse on Cookie
with Sookie in House.

Talk of milk comes.
Of silk sheets comes.
Talk of milk and
silk and ilk comes.

Look, Sookie. Look, Sookie.
Ms Stackhouse, m’am.
Let’s fix bix mix
Milk and straw, m’am.
Let’s quick sticks fix
Manky floor m’am.

First, I’ll make a
quick milk mix.
Then I’ll want
to draw some pics.

You can make a
milk mix quick.
You can make a
Bic pic stick.

And here’s a
new trick, Ms Stackhouse. . .
milk, cookie,
cookie in mouse,
grouse mouse in
a house that’s grouse
is a grouse
house grouse mouse house.

Now we come to
beds and zeds m’am,
will you read this
if you can, ma’m?

Long locks docked dear,
strong pong gone clear,
six smick pics here,
groom, broom, zoom sphere.

Here’s an easy
thing to do,
I’ll help me
And you will too. . .

Get me.
Let me.
Give me?
Pet me.

What brings these things?
Wings bring these things.

Who sees the wings
that bring these things?
You are the thing
with wings that bring.

That’s fantastic
Ms Stackhouse, m’am.

What now?
Eat now
Dead beat feet now.

Who’d know toes blow?
Can’t go, no, no.
Oh, so, so
parched though.
Milk please.

36

Excellent! :cool:

37

Stephen King:

Mouse woke up wanting a cookie. He’d wanted a cookie the day before, and the day before that, every day since he’d arrived in Maine. Yes indeedy, a cookie what what I need,thought Mouse, maybe with

*(napkin) *

some milk. And brother, what’s milk if you don’t have a straw?

“Honeychile,” said a mystical old black woman who’d shown up in this story for no really good reason, “you best not be lookin’ in that mirror, lest next you be wantin’ a haircut!”

Fuck, thought Mouse. A haircut; the bender he’d been on these past four weeks, he probably looked like shit. And the place looked like it needed sweeping too, now that he thought about it. What was it cleanliness

(napkin)

was next to?

Godliness, my friends. Time to get right with God.

Just thinking about everything that needed doing was sapping Mouse of his strength. He could feel it flowing out of him like he was being drained of his own blood. Jesus Christ, wouldb’t a nap feel just fine? Very fine - fluff that pillow up, get someone to read him a story. That’s what he needed. Not cleaning… just a nap, a good story with pictures, and…

Christ! The book! mouse had been working on the book for months and the writer’s block had been devastating. But today, finally, an idea! He threw himself at the desk (where the liquor bottles stood in a shaky row, ho-ho) and started creating. In no time he had something - not a chapter, no, but a PICTURE, by God, because to hell with Maine. To hell with the book; he was going to make it a screenplay, because, friends and neighbours, movies are where the money is.

Mouse hung the picture on the refrigerator.

It was a picture of a cookie.

He needed the milk

(napkin)

and a cookie.

He would have reached for the cookies. But they reached for him first.

38

A COOKIE.

“Yes, master.”

YOU GAVE A MOUSE A COOKIE.

Albert fidgeted wretchedly and clutched at the damp dishcloth as though it were a shield or a talisman, rather than merely a vector for efficient dispersal of bacteria across every utensil in Death’s kitchen. “Yes, master.”

I HAVE TO SAY IT COMES AS SOMETHING OF A SURPRISE TO LEARN THAT WE EVEN HAVE A MOUSE, ALBERT. I CERTAINLY NEVER CREATED ANY.

Most of the household trappings and, for that matter, the apparently living things in the garden had indeed been created directly by Death from raw firmament, with results that were more or less satisfactory depending on the viewer’s opinion on a field of tall waving black poppies on a sea of black grass under a permanently black sky. Actual living creatures seldom came to Death’s domain, at least not in their original form. “No, master. But you get mice everywhere -”

EXCEPT HERE.

“-everywhere you get humans, sir. Or at any rate, their food. It must have come in with one of the shipments.”

Death regarded his servant over mausoleumed[sup]*[/sup] fingers. There was a small amount of real food in the house, mainly to give Albert something to fry, but also because Death, despite appearances, occasionally enjoyed a little something with his cup of tea.

AND YOU GAVE IT A COOKIE.

“Yes, sir. It asked for one.”

I AM HOPING, THOUGH WITH SMALL CONFIDENCE, ALBERT, THAT THE COOKIE YOU GAVE IT WAS NOT IN FACT ONE OF SIMKINS AND BLYBURGH’S BROWN SUGAR AND STEM GINGER COOKIES.

“Um… actually…”

AND IT ASKED FOR ONE EXACTLY HOW?

“Well, it just -”

BECAUSE, IN MY EXPERIENCE, THE HISTORY OF HUMAN-TO-RODENT COMMUNICATION HAS NOT NORMALLY BEEN ONE OF UNPARALLELED - AH, WAIT, I WAS FORGETTING. YOU UNDERSTOOD IT BECAUSE YOU ARE A WIZARD.

Although Alberto Malich had quit Unseen University centuries ago, he had indeed been and remained one of the Disc’s mightiest ever wizards. But he shook his head. “No, sir… it just asked.”

AH.

“Sir… can I just ask… since you don’t actually have any lips or tongue or nerves or anything, being just an…”

ANTHROPOMORPHIC PERSONIFICATION.

“…yes… well, I don’t quite understand…”

YOU WANT TO ASK ME HOW I ENJOY A SIMKINS AND BLYBURGH’S BROWN SUGAR AND STEM GINGER COOKIE.

“Yes, master.”

I ENJOY IT VERY WELL INDEED, THANK YOU.
THAT IS, Death added, WHEN IT HAS NOT BEEN FED TO AN UNUSUALLY COMMUNICATIVE AND IMPORTUNATE MOUSE.

“I’m so sorry, master.”

IT’S NOT EVEN AS IF I CAN SEND YOU TO GET SOME MORE.

Albert’s tactic of translating himself, via an inspired reversal of the Rite of AshkEnte, had ensured that he could spend as long as he liked in Death’s domain without dying; but his lifetimer now had a scant seventeen seconds of sand left in it, restricting his visits back to the land of the living to an unreasonable extent. However, Death was not a cruel master.

IT IS NO MATTER. I SHALL REMEMBER TO PICK SOME UP WHEN I AM NEXT IN ANKH-MORPORK, WHICH, IT WILL COME AS NO SURPRISE TO LEARN, WILL BE IN THE NOT VERY DISTANT FUTURE AT ALL. I MAY CALL ON SUSAN AS WELL.

“Oh!”

NOT IN THE LINE OF BUSINESS. ALTHOUGH, SOME DAY, EVEN HER… AT ANY RATE, I PRESUME THAT ALTHOUGH WE NOW HAVE ONE COOKIE THE LESS, AT LEAST WE NO LONGER HAVE ANY MENDACIOUS RODENTS ABOUT THE PLACE.

Albert, who had been just about to go and get along with his duties, froze guiltily in place. “Actually, master…”

Death famously has infinite reserves of patience, but Albert could almost perceptibly feel himself shrivelling in place throughout the minutes that followed. Eventually -

SO LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT. YOU GAVE THIS MOUSE, IN SUCCESSION, A GLASS OF MILK, A STRAW, A NAPKIN, A MIRROR, A PAIR OF SCISSORS FOR A HAIR TRIM, A BROOM TO SWEEP THE FLOOR -

“It really did try to sweep the whole house, sir,” Albert put in, oddly loyal to the creature.

A TASK DOOMED TO FAILURE FOR ANY MORTAL CREATURE, ALBERT. THEN, NATURALLY BEING EXHAUSTED FROM ITS WELL-MEANING EFFORT, IT ASKED YOU FOR BED TO SLEEP IN, AND A STORY TO BE READ TO IT, A LOOK AT THE PICTURES IN THE STORY, PAPER AND CRAYONS TO DRAW ITS OWN PICTURE AND SOME GLUE TO ATTACH IT TO A VERTICAL SURFACE IN MY KITCHEN.

“Actually I didn’t use glue, sir. Leonard of Quirm -”

I AM FAMILIAR WITH LEONARD’S INVENTIVE GENIUS. AT THIS POINT, I AM PREPARED TO BE GRATEFUL FOR SMALL MERCIES. HOWEVER, MAY I ASSUME THAT THIS MOUSE, ITS APPARENTLY ENDLESS LITANY OF REQUESTS SATISFIED ONE BY ONE, AT LEAST TROUBLES US NO MORE?

Albert’s shrivel became more apparent. “Erm… sir…”

IT TURNS OUT THAT THE CREATURE WANTS ANOTHER COOKIE.

“…yes.”

ALBERT, said Death, in tones that had no alternative to being sepulchral in any case but were perhaps emphasised a little more than usual, EITHER I AM MISSING SOMETHING OR WE ARE NOW TRAPPED IN AN ENDLESS CYCLE IN WHICH WE ARE GIVING COOKIES TO MICE.

“I’m afraid it looks like that, master.”

HM. Death turned to the small skeletal figure leaning against one of the taller hourglasses on his desk. I THINK THIS ONE’S FOR YOU.

SQUEAK

  • Like “steepled fingers”, only less religious and more funereal
39

That was perfect.

40

David Mamet -

"Cookies are for closers only.

The good news is you’re fired. The bad news is you’ve got- all you’ve got- just one week to trim your whiskers, starting with tonight. Starting with tonight’s sit. [sardonically] Oh, have I got your attention now? Good. 'Cause we’re adding a little something to this month’s sales contest. As you all know, first prize is a broom. Anybody wanna see second prize? Second prize’s a pillow and a blanket. Third prize is we hang your picture on the refrigerator, and you’re fired."

Regards,
Shodan