It was a slow day at the mansion. Dr. Zlo had left on some errand, leaving only the minions behind.

Jacques CKE94—A.K.A. ‘Cookie’—lounged on the couch in the living room, the minion making sure to live its best life.

Coincidentally, its best life involved a plate of spray cheese with a side of crackers. Yes, you heard right, a plate of spray cheese. Cookie had decided the best way to enjoy cheese and crackers was to upend the entire bottle of cheese onto a plate and dip into it with a cracker.

Why Cookie liked to do this, no one could say. The Jacques had no mouths with which to eat, so what usually happened was that Cookie used his face as a canvas for new and fantastic pieces of modern art. Take right now, for example. The Jacques had somehow layered enough spray cheese and cracker crumbs to form a rudimentary beard. Another cracker joined the minion’s face, adding a wispy mustache.

A crash sounded from the kitchen, but Cookie ignored it. The minion was living its best life, after all, which involved not ‘getting involved.’ See, Cookie had done something quite extraordinary for a Jacques. The minion had learned.

It was an arduous process, to be sure. It involved months upon months of various foods plastered to faces and more months of escapades with Dr. Zlo. However, eventually, a thought stuck to the minion like gum on a shoe.

That thought was this: ‘getting involved with other Jacques shortened one’s lifespan.’

It was a bolt of lightning to the minion. So many Jacques had fallen during Dr. ZLo’s escapades. And what was the one thing in common between all of them? The Jacques!

Therefore it stood to reason that interacting with other Jacques meant certain doom.

So, Cookie took it upon itself to change. It stopped joining the daily Jacques rock-paper-scissors tournament and did its best to avoid any shenanigans—no matter how tempting.

Somehow, it worked. Cookie could pride itself on being one of the longest living minions in Dr. Zlo’s grand army.

All that time away from others gave Cookie more chances to pursue his goal. See, Cookie was going to be the first Jacques to conquer the unconquerable. Cookie would learn to taste.

It was well known that Jacques didn’t have mouths for eating, but that wasn’t about to stop this determined minion.

Cookie had seen Mabel, Quartet, and Cass all eating food before, and had grown jealous of their ability. So the Jacques laid it upon himself to do what they did, mouth or no mouth. Cookie would conquer the culinary castes! He would swallow the sweet succor of sugar! He would eat! His! Namesake!

Preliminary tests were still ongoing, the minion still unsure on how to go about tasting without a mouth. But, Cookie was sure he would figure it out eventually. After all, he was likely the smartest of Dr. Zlo’s minions.

Mabel’s voice cried out from the kitchen. “What is all this ruselrumpin’? Is that my flour?!”

Cookie heard the various motions of Jacques attempting to explain.

“I don’t care what you were trying to do! That flour was going to be for my apple pie! Beau has been cravin’ a good apple pie lately, an’ I wanted to surprise him.”

More sounds of gesturing.

“No! I am not about to, ‘dress up as a ghost,’ with you. Honestly, where did you even get the idea?”

Cookie grabbed another cracker and attempted to munch. Maybe its mouth was located somewhere non-traditional? Like on his—

“A cartoon? Y’all’r tellin’ me that the flour I slaved away getting’ was thrown all over the kitchen cause of some cartoon?!”

Uh-oh. That was Mabel’s angry voice. Cookie decided it was a good time to make himself scarce. This sounded like a shenanigan.

The minion was too slow. Mabel’s commanding voice echoed from the other room. “Now, y’all need to come stand in front of me.”

Cookie felt itself marching over, Mabel’s mind-control taking hold. He stepped into the room to stand beside three other Jacques, covered head to toe with flour.

“Now,” Mabel said to the four of them. “Y’all don’t mind getting me a cup of flour from the neighbors, do you?”

The Jacques shook their heads.

Mabel smiled and walked over to one of the minions with slightly less flour on their face. “Aw, that makes me pleased as punch. Now, get goin’. I want to see y’all back by nightfall. And don’t be getting into any trouble!”

Under Mabel’s control, the Jacques were forced to listen, and all four of them marched out the mansion and onto the street.

“And get yourselves cleaned up,” Mabel said as she closed the door. “Lord knows what Dr. Zlo will do if he hears his minions are walking around with egg on their face.”

Cookie protested. He was experimenting with spray cheese, not eggs. But alas, Mabel had already closed the door, leaving Cookie to complain to the hardwood. The other Jacques heard, however, and consoled Cookie with a couple of pats on the back.

(This next part is translated from Jacques so the reader can understand. Because lord knows how impossible it is to understand the Jacques thought process.)

“We should split up,” one of the Jacques said. “That way, we can find the neighbors quicker.”

“I’ll check the sewers,” another Jacques replied.

The third Jacques slapped the speaker over the head. “You moron, you can’t find neighbors in the sewer. That’s for crocodiles.”

“Well, where are we supposed to find neighbors?” the second Jacques asked.

“First off,” Cookie said. “We should figure out what a neighbor is.”

The other Jacques all nodded.

“Good idea, that.”

“Yes, can’t find a neighbor if we don’t know what it is.”

“But who would know what a neighbor is?”

Cookie looked between the three Jacques. “I think I know where we can find out.”

The three looked at him and signed in unison. “Where?”

Cookie leaned in conspiratorially. “I’ve heard others talk about a place of knowledge called… the Lieberry. It’s a place filled to the brim with books on every topic.”

The Jacques all gasped.

“Where would we find such a place?” The first asked.

“Well, from its name, it must look like a bush,” the second said. “Why else would it be a berry?”

The Jacques all nodded in agreement at this flawless logic.

“Then, let’s split up and search for a bush covered in books,” the first said.

“Wait!” Cookie said. “It’s a Lieberry, remember? It wouldn’t look like a bush because it’s lying.”

“Ah, I didn’t think of that,” the first Jacques said.

“But that brings us back to the start!” The second complained.

“Not exactly,” the third said. “We know a Lieberry has books. So if we find a lot of books, we find the Lieberry!”

The first Jacques struck a pose. “Alright, gang. Let’s split up and search for clues to the Lieberry!”

Cookie was more than happy to oblige. The theory of safety in numbers didn’t apply to Jacques.

“I’ll check this direction,” Cookie said.

The Jacques waved him off, taking different directions to find the elusive Lieberry.