Scenarios Regarding Cookie-Eating Mice

Angry New Ager Magazine. Fall Quarter 2026. Vol5 No.3 pp. 16-21.

Thanks to research by Laura Numeroff and Felicia Bond (1985)1 we know the chain of events that follow if you give a mouse a cookie. What happens if you give a mouse other objects?

For instance, If you give a mouse $240, the chain of events naturally escalates beyond dairy products and tiny brooms:

  1. He’s going to ask for a High-Yield Savings Account.
    When you help him set that up, he’ll realize $240 isn’t enough to beat inflation, so he’ll ask for an index fund portfolio.
  2. The portfolio management will stress him out.
    Checking market fluctuations will give him eye strain, so he’ll ask for a tiny pair of blue-light glasses.
  3. Once he looks smart in his blue-light glasses, he’ll want to start a venture capital firm.
    He’ll pitch a micro-logistics startup specializing in artisan cheese delivery, but he’ll need a whiteboard to outline his seed round valuation.
  4. While writing on the whiteboard, he’ll work up an appetite.
    Looking at his projected quarterly earnings will make him crave a high-end gourmet treat.
  5. He’ll ask for a luxury chocolate-chip cookie.
    And chances are, if you give him a cookie… he’s going to ask for a glass of oat milk to go with it.

If this were say, a less fiscally responsible mouse, with an appetite for pudding, how might that alter the chain of events having received the same $240?
If you give a less fiscally responsible mouse with an uncontrollable appetite for pudding $240, the chain of events turns into a immediate, high-sugar spiral:

  1. He’s going to spend all $240 on a bulk order of artisanal, small-batch chocolate pudding.
    He won’t bother calculating shipping or tax, exhausting his entire windfall on 80 glass jars delivered directly to your doorstep.
  2. When the shipment arrives, he’ll realize he has no way to eat it.
    He’ll ask you for a tiny silver spoon. When you can’t find one small enough, he’ll improvise and ask for a box of graham crackers to use as shovels.
  3. After eating four times his body weight in pudding, he’ll get a massive sugar crash.
    He’ll ask for a nap, which means you’ll need to roll up a linen napkin to make him a mini duvet and a cotton ball pillow.
  4. When he wakes up three hours later, covered in dried pudding, he’ll look in the mirror.
    He’ll notice his face is sticky, which will remind him that he spent his entire life savings in one afternoon.
  5. The financial panic will give him heartburn.
    He’ll ask for a glass of milk to settle his stomach.
  6. And chances are…
    If you give him a glass of milk, he’s going to ask if you can lend him another $240 to buy more pudding.

What if you give the mouse control of the city budge of Topeka, Kansas, noting that the mouse is neither a resident of Topeka nor fiscally responsible?
If you give a non-resident, fiscally irresponsible mouse control over the municipal budget of Topeka, Kansas—and a lingering, unaddressed craving for pudding—the chain of events for Capital City governance takes a turn for the chaotic:

  1. He’s going to immediately reallocate the entire Infrastructure and Road Maintenance Improvement fund.
    He’ll view pothole repair as a waste of capital and rezone Topeka’s iconic Gage Park into a 160-acre, state-of-the-art “Pudding and Entertainment Complex.”
  2. When the City Council raises a point of order regarding residency requirements and ethics laws, he’ll feel intimidated.
    To assert his authority, he’ll ask for a tiny mayor’s sash, a miniature top hat, and a customized mahogany podium high enough for him to be seen over the microphones.
  3. Once he looks official in his mayor’s sash, he’ll try to stimulate the local economy.
    He will pass an emergency executive order declaring snack-based barter as legal tender, replacing the U.S. dollar across Shawnee County with chocolate pudding cups and butterscotch tokens.
  4. The local financial markets will immediately collapse under hyper-pudding inflation.
    To distract the citizenry from the total devaluation of the municipal treasury, he’ll propose a massive civic vanity project: a giant, gilded monument of himself dipping a graham cracker into the Kansas River.
  5. While laying the cornerstone for the monument, he’ll get sugar stickiness on the city seal.
    Looking at the ruined historical documents will remind him that he hasn’t audited the water utilities since Tuesday.
  6. The stress of municipal bankruptcy will give him a sugar crash.
    He’ll ask the Treasury Director for a glass of milk to settle his stomach.
  7. And chances are…
    If the Treasury Director hands him a glass of milk, the mouse is going to ask if Topeka can issue $500 million in municipal junk bonds to buy just one more round of butterscotch.

In a slightly darker scenario, what happens if you give a mouse and automatic weapon?
If you give a mouse an automatic weapon, the immediate shift in power dynamics transforms a innocent children’s tale into a tactical standoff:

  1. He’s going to demand immediate control of the pantry.
    Forget asking politely for a cookie; he now has the leverage to skip the polite requests entirely and seize the entire box of Chips Ahoy! at gunpoint.
  2. He’ll quickly realize he lacks the physical force to manage the recoil.
    Firing even a single round will launch his 20-gram body backward into the baseboards, leaving him disoriented and nursing a tiny shoulder injury.
  3. To compensate for the lack of tactical usability, he’ll ask for body armor.
    He’ll demand a custom Kevlar vest made out of a recycled thimble and a pair of tactical night-vision goggles fashioned from tiny watch batteries.
  4. Once fully geared up, he’ll try to establish a perimeter around the living room rug.
    He’ll post up on top of the coffee table to enforce a strict embargo on all household cat movements.
  5. The intense stress of maintaining a urban combat posture will wear him out.
    Watching all four corners of the room for potential ambushes will give him extreme fatigue.
  6. He’ll drop the weapon and ask for a glass of warm milk to calm his nerves.
    And chances are, if you hand him a glass of milk… he’s going to ask for a bulletproof coaster to put under it.
  1. If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. Numeroff, Laura and Felicia Bond. 1985. New York. Harper & Row.   ↩︎