Hello! Ummmm…. Please don't get too mad at me! I…um…. Actually, I totally deserve it! I mean, what sort of responsible author would update this rarely? Sorrysorrysorrysorry! It's just so hard to sit myself down at my computer and actually write a chapter, you know?

Aaanyway, when I left off all that time ago, Mew was panicking, Max was screaming, his mother had fainted and Professor Oak had absolutely no clue as to what was going on! Well, we are going to go back in time now, to that fateful night…
Also, I've changed the ending a bit- go back and check it out (you'll probably want to re-read the entire story, now that I think about it…. Thinking back, I had a poll, to see which one of my pokemon stories people most wanted to see continued first! Well, I can now announce that the results were... hold on… *grabs piece of paper and looks at it*Drum roll please!... umm….. * crumples paper up and throws away*. Well, it turns out that no-one voted, so I'm just going to continue both- keep an eye out for my other story, Mew's Child! That's right- both feature Mew!

On with the story!

9 years ago

Max poked his head around the door. Good. His mother's favourite programme was on the tv, and wouldn't be finished for at least five minutes. Plenty of time. He tottered into the kitchen, and looked longingly up at his goal. The jar stood on a shelf above him, next to a beautiful vase. He shook his head- this was no time to stare. As quickly as he could, he padded over to the drawers at the other end of the counter and pulled the lowest one out as quietly as he could. Then, he moved onto the other two, pulling them out slightly shorter amounts, so that they formed a rough staircase. He grinned. Scrambling up the drawers, he edged along the counter, until he reached his prize.

He had anticipated this moment for weeks. Finally, the coveted cookie jar was within reach! Its simple blue and white stripes were just a few seconds away…ah. He strained his arms, he stood on tip-toes- but the shelf was slightly too high for him to get his hands around the jar safely. Desperately, he looked around for something to give him the extra centimetres. On the draining board lay a cooling rack that had been used earlier for his mother's latest batch of chocolate cookies. The same ones, in fact, that were now his target for this risky night-time raid. Earlier he had helped make them, and indeed had one, but his mother had stopped him from having another of the mouth-watering, delectable chocolate treats just inches away, saying that he would spoil his tea ( he had no clue why a chocolate cookie would affect the taste of a completely different meal, but he did as he was told). Slightly panicked now, he mounted the cooling rack and closed his hands around the jar.

Just when he thought he was home and dry, a new problem presented itself. As he started to pull the jar towards him, the back of his hand rubbed up against the vase beside it and caused it to move as well. Slowly, he nudged the two forward, then attempted to separate them. It was then that he suddenly realised something very important. He couldn't hear the tv. Which meant it was turned off. Which meant his mother could hear him. This meant that any second now, t-

Click.

The light flared into life, momentarily blinding him. Reeling back, the let go of the jar…..

Helen saw the consequences of this in slow motion. First came her son, reeling backwards and sitting down on the counter with a bump. Then her precious glass vase, bought in far off Unova many years ago, came tumbling down….

SMASH!

When the last ear-aching ring of breaking glass had died away, Helen was looking at a pile of glass and a very unhappy boy, his prize snatched away at the last moment by a light switch. Needless to say, she was very upset.

"Max, go to bed this instant!" she almost screamed the last word at him. The vase had been very expensive.
"Why? It was only pretty glass." Max of course, was still at the age where cost doesn't mean a lot to a child, and didn't understand why his mother couldn't get another one.
"That was a very precious vase, Max. Now go to bed."
Max had had enough. He pointed at the jar. "Not until I have a cookie." This was the last straw.

"Get out of my sight."

"M-m-mommy?..."

"GET OUT! GO! NOW!"

"B—b-bu-"

"Out! OUT! OOOUUTT!

"WAAAH!" Terrified by the sight of his furious mother, he ran from the room. Behind him he heard his mother stamping top the cupboard, for a dustpan and brush. Mistaking this for thinking she was chasing him. He fled to the porch, and desperately grappled with the front door. He fumbled with the key, threw the door wide and ran out into the cold, slamming the door behind him.

In the kitchen, Helen was already regretting yelling at Max. When she heard the door slam, an icy fear surrounded her. She ran to the door, dashed outside and looked around wildly. Max was gone.

So now we know just what happened that night! I hope you aren't too angry with me, and hope you enjoyed the chapter. Please review! I'd like to know- do you think that Max should confront his fears and mother and son should forgive each other? One last thing- I'm looking for a Beta reader to help me improve my writing and Make this story the best it can be. If you'd like to help, send me a message either in a review or by pm. Until next time!