October 2025

“Okay, who ate all but one of the cookies?” Kelly stood in the middle of the bookstore, her pet blue-footed boobie, Bruce, by her side. “There’s only one left.” 

All the dragons in Matt’s Pretty Good Used Bookstore turned and looked at her. Kelly was adopted. She was the only one of us who was human. Bruce was just what he appeared to be, a bird. We had no idea who Matt was, that the store was named after. When our grandparents bought the place, they had been too cheap to change the name. 

We were doing inventory today. Kelly had been at dance class and was in a foul mood. She still wore her tap shoes, and they made extra noise as she stormed around the store. It was a good thing, at times like these, that she wasn’t a dragon, she would have burned the place down. 

“OK, that’s it.” Kelly pushed my paperwork aside, and put Bruce on the table. 

“Hey.” 

“Don’t hey me, Aunt Clare. You’re a suspect too. Bruce, keep an eye on her.” 

I growled, but didn't shoot any fire. Not something you want to do in a bookshop. 

In the meantime, Kelly went rampaging through the store, gathering suspects, who were all relatives, and making them sit down at the table. 

Once we were all seated, she stood at the head. 

“I made cookies yesterday. I put them in the cookie jar in the breakroom. When I went to get some, this afternoon, there was only one left. So, who stole the cookies from the cookie jar?” 

“Of all the…” my brother started to say, then took a deep breath. I could see little tendrils of steam rising above his head. “Kelly, dear, we have to finish the inventory. I’ll buy you a bag of cookies…” 

“Dad, no, I want to investigate.” Kelly stomped her foot. All the dragons around the table just looked at each other. If we wanted to get back to work, we would have to co-operate. 

“Fine, put out your hands.” 

We all put them out. Kelly walked around the table, examining everyone. Bruce walked on the table doing the same. Sometimes, if he thought he saw something there, he would peck at it, which hurt. 

She stopped at her mother. “Crumbs.” “Those are from my sandwich. Completely different.” 

Kelly looked closer. “Oh.” 

She came to her father. “Crumbs.” 

“Those are from my muffin.” And so it went for everyone. We had all just had lunch. 

Kelly was exasperated. She turned to Bruce. She held out the only cookie that survived. “They’re all clean.” Bruce squawked, took the final cookie from her, and ate in two bites. 

“Kelly, did you accidentally use anchovy paste in the cookies again?” I asked. “I think the answer is that Bruce got into them. I can’t think of anyone who willingly eats anchovy flavored cookies, except your boobie, and you.” 

“Oh, never mind. Case closed.” Kelly clattered off with her blue-footed boobie.