The cookies that Timby had in his kitchen that night were not just any cookies. These cookies were set aside, under penalty of lightning, not to be for Nixy. Had Nixy only realized this before he sneaked in that night, things might have gone very differently for him.
Alas, such are the idle, remorseful musings of Nixy so many days later. But they are accompanied by other musings, more disquieting than remorseful, of how these cookies were not set aside for Timby either. Researchers, investigators, and tourists have prodded and probed Timby often for the answer to the question, "Who were the cookies for?" but only to get shoved into a giant, stinky sock and hear Timby's gleeful cackling as he made his getaway.
"Touch not the cookies."
"What will happen to me?"
"May the lightning strike you."
"Who'd that strike?!"
"Whoever it was, they know that was meant for you."
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
"There they are now!"
"We expected you a minute sooner.
"Now take my pants to the dry cleaner."