It was the third of Toymas, or so I’d been told
When in marched the hamsters and Timmy all bold.
“Tell us of cookies and other things sweet”
One look at my face and then hasty retreat.
“I have no time for food or festive delight,
There’s work to be done before Toymas Night!”
When I saw faces drop I knew I had broken
Their poor little hearts with how harsh I had spoken.
“Come back in you scamps, and ask what you wanted
But I may be distracted and answers might have to be prompted.”
With slight unease they stepped back in the room,
No doubt just in case this signalled their doom.
“Tell us of cookies and how can we make,
For the internet’s down and we wanted to bake.”
To my library we go to find a book about bakin’
But to all our surprise it only had cake in.
With a lack of a guide, I tried to recall
Facts about cookies no matter how small.
“They’re sweet and they’re round invariably crumbly,
The finest of treats when your tummy is rumbly,
It’s hard to define cause I a slight regret,
There’s so many cookies I just haven’t tried yet.”
“Make sure that they’re sweet, shaped something festive
Or failing that you could buy a digestive
The important thing is the feeling you put into
your cookies now get out, I’ve still work to do!”
And with that those scamps turned to flee,
Pinching a CD stack yelling “For the tree!”
I’d have paused to wonder what tree they had meant,
When you’re celebrating Toymas in a bunker of cement.