Part 1: The joy inside the cookie-man

Down below to the sun, at noon, one can think that there was no other authority except this bitter hot July days which keeps all the people inside their homes. No blooming flowers, no kids playing soccer on the dusty ground, even no piece of sign for aliveness in this village. Just Osman, the bald-man with the long mustache, was pushing his cart which was full of mouth-watering, sweet and aromatic hand-made cookies. Apparently, he was aware of the unlikelihood of selling all these golds -Osman always preferred to say gold instead of cookie- at this time of the summer days. However, he did not regret going outside. He had half a dozen of children in that small, two-room house with the tile roof. All this noise and mess around the home kept him away from here for the last ten years. Fatma, his lovely wife, had no dominance at this house. Osman made her silent over the years with the power of being twenty year older than his wife. Though, she had a vital part of the responsibility for the family business. When Osman tried her always-puffy, delicious and pleasant-smelling cookies for the first time, immediately, a light bulb had been occurred above his head and he found the way of making money until the rest of his life. It was the only time that Fatma felt a sign of achievement for the family that she would boost for. Beside this sacred duty, making golds for family business, Fatma was such a modest mouse in this house. Cleaning the house, washing the laundry, feeding all these eight hungry stomachs had been never carried an importance for Osman. He never seemed that he was caring her wife in this all-time messy days of their lives. For him, there were two important things, his golds and the golds of others -the real money paid for his cookies. He chose also having two different himself in his life. He was the joy of all the coffee-shops throughout the village while he was the angry and stoned-face father of his family, on contrary. The jokes and the funny gestures always pissed his friends laughing. On the other side, his whacking and anger caused great distress in the house. However, his funny side made him famous among his friends. Over the years, he was the only person in the region who had been wanted to watch by from the nearby villages, towns and provinces for his funny jokes and memories. “Quite reasonable”, Osman muttered when he remembered the thing that forced him to act oppositely at outside. With this funny way of telling jokes, Osman managed to sell his golds to these smelly, vagabond people who smoke all the time at these coffee-shops. It’s a win-win effect of the business. When he understood that it’s impossible to make money without any speciality, he had quit being an ordinary peddler and tried his luck in the coffee-shops as a flamboyant-type story-teller. People could not dare to refuse his golds he offered for them after the performance to buy. Finally, he started to make the important part of the money to live with such a big family and lot of necessities. Still, it was unbearable for him to be in the house with his high-volumed children and silent wife. He never found the joy in his family, so he disguised as a funny man pursuing the aim for cheer and money at outside.