Not The Way I Used To Be [Pure Vanilla Cookie x Reader]

▪︎ Chapter 2 - Its My Bread ▪︎

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Warning/s: Cussing

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We arrived bright and early, the sun still rising and the birds lively and awake. The park we were setting up at was right in the middle of the city, the busiest park in all of Toffeeton, or so Fried Butter says. He helped me set up the little tent area for the food, and the wooden counters to prepare food, and almost instantly disappeared. To go find that one cookie, I assume.

It was none of my business, I had other things to do.

"Get at least 100 orders, no matter what you have to do." He had said as you turned on the fryers. He wasn't around to watch, so you could always just claim you sold 100 orders.

Just outside the cut-out window, I could see a few cookies start to line up, maybe it would be a good day and I wouldn't have to lie. I prepared their food like any other day, careful not to make it any more toxic than it already was. This stuff had to make you sick, unless you had the stomach of a witch, and could handle actual trash.

The first wave of customers came and quickly went, and then it just went dead. Not a soul passed by, and the ones in the distance were all completely uninterested.

I sat there, bored out of my mind, staring at my small piece of paper. There were 7 tally marks on it, only 7 customers were in that wave. Well, there was actually around 11, but after seeing the 7th throw up their food into a nearby trash can, every other cookie was grossed out and quickly dispersed.

The thought popped back into my mind as I stood up from leaning on the counter, and dusted off my apron. The small bag of books I used to carry around was discarded in the corner, and I quickly dug through it. The pale pink cook caught my eye, being the recipe book my grandmother gave to me. She and my grandfather used to bake stuff together, they called it their bonding time.

And now that my grandmother was dead, he let me have it, so I could "Continue the tradition." I doubt that would ever happen.

I flipped through the pages, being careful to not rip any of them. They were fragile and old, and I still liked the book even if I rarely use it.

Page 84, Fluffy Raisin Buns, and it takes 3 hours to make. That's a lot of time to burn through but...

The non-existent line of cookies in front of you was discouraging. It was this or chase cookies around until I forced people to buy something. The last time I did that, I got a warrant out for my arrest, not ideal.

I put up the small sign, "Out for lunch", even if it was around 8 in the morning. We don't have an out for breakfast sign, no one goes out for breakfast, that's just stupid. I slipped into my regular clothes, a more casual sweater for the weather. The apron and clothes were left strewn across the floor.

I grabbed a small handful of my payment from the bag, if I spend more than that, I have some sort of issue. One glance around to confirm the absence of the yellow-haired cookie. And I was off.

The city was still calm, with a light amount of foot traffic in the streets away from the park. A small puff of air from how cold it was outside, made me hug myself tighter for warmth. Most of the shops were just opening or had only been open for 1 or so hours. I liked just being able to stroll around, watch the other few cookies live their lives.

The sidewalk lead me to a small produce shop, I was careful to not step on the cracks on my way there. The store was outdoor, with many fruits and vegetables out on display. Even with the frigid weather, the produce looked fresh and vibrant. It could make a cookie who despises fruit and vegetables reconsider.