“Once upon a time, there was a beautiful, gorgeous land, still in the age of castles and princesses. There, the days went by like in any other: The sun rising and setting, and meanwhile, many things happened, many adventurous things. But none was so exceptional as that one day, on which the sun was rising into a rather misty morning. It seemed quite plain as any other, but for one thing. A bird sat on the edge of a cliff, watching over the valley. On the other side, lay a castle, quite hidden in the damp air of mist. But a light shone over it, and the bird too might have noticed, that something was about to happen.

In an old farm house, far away from the misty land, lived a little boy and girl. As brother and sister, they of course had times to argue, but also to play. They lived there together with their aunt and uncle, for their parents had died when they were still far younger. Every day passed as another. Until that one fateful day when the old bell on the door rang. The boy hurried to open it, but there was a sight which he had never seen before. In front of him, on the doorstep under the pouring rain, stood a little, pointy-hatted dwarf.”
—[Melocrie]

"Dwarf Scout Cookies"

~~~by [Paul Doyle]~~~


“Hello young one,” said the smiling little dwarf, eyes twinkling despite the cold rain rolling down his nose. “Would you like to buy some cookies?” A sudden burst of wind buffeted the bushes about, blowing cold rain into the dwarf’s face.

Uncle strode up, brushing by the boy, muttering something foul under his breath. “No, I do NOT wish to be converted to some crazy froth-mouthed religion, thank you so VERY much!” With wiry whip-armed strength, Uncle slammed the door, the action rattling the windows and jostling a picture from its mount. The frame smacked into the wall unit before tumbling earthward, sending a replica of a faux crystal squirrel crashing its way to its untimely inkling demise.

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

The little girl clenched her fists, tensed up, threw her reddened face back and wailed pathetic tears.

“No, no, no!”, sighed Auntie, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. “Honey, that’s not one of those whacked-out holy rollers. That’s that guy from the Dwarf Scouts—Dwarf Scout Cookies are the best. I’m surprised he decided to show up at the door in this kind of weather.”

“Well gee, dear, thanks for the timely communication,” snorted Uncle, reaching for the doorknob. Auntie slapped his hands away and opened the door herself. The dwarf still stood there, confuzzled, eyes unblinking. “Um, sorry?”

Just then, a massive lightning bolt nearly vaporized the tool shed, striking it not thirty meters away. The blinding concussive blast hurtled the dwarf indoors, crashing into the little boy and knocking the wind out of him. Reverberating thunder echoed for many miles in all directions. A displaced, terrified little bunny rabbit squealed and hopped about the front yard like a deranged animated pogo stick, the poor creature pooping and peeing in panic.

“Now look what you’ve done!”, Uncle intoned darkly, glaring balefully at Auntie who tended to the boy who quickly resumed normal breathing. “Oh, now what?”, Uncle whined as the scared little bunny rabbit bounded indoors and bounced right into the arms of the crestfallen little girl. He threw his arms out irritably.

“Awww . . . !” , said the little girl, covering the shivering, trembling and wet ball of fur in a “My Little Pony® ” blanket. The little bunny rabbit heaved a cute tiny sigh and sniffed at her, its whiskered fluffy nose twitching.

“Dwarf Scout Cookies are the BEST!”, beamed the boy as Uncle belatedly shut the door, then chained and dead-bolted it.

“Maybe, but they’re also ridiculously expensive,” sneered Uncle. You can get more than twice as much from the village baker at the same price, and you know they’re fresh. Who knows how long the Dwarf Scout cookies have been sitting inside those little boxes?”

“You have to admit they’re really good, those Dwarf Scout cookies,” said Auntie, stroking the bunny rabbit behind the ears. “Now unless you want to go to the bakery in this crazy weather, I strongly suggest you look on the bright side. We have an unconscious dwarf on our hands—a dwarf who also has a sack filled with little boxes of Dwarf Scout Cookies. Opportunity knocks, yes?” She winked.

“Oh, so this was your idea all along, wasn’t it?”

“Well, I didn’t insist the Dwarf Scouts send one of their finest out in the kind of weather that can frighten a pit bull.” The clouds darkened some more, and the steady downburst escalated into a monsoon-like cloudburst. “Just look at the opportunity here—we help the dwarf, and get some cookies as a small fee.”

“What a dumb plan,” Uncle snorted derisively. “The bunny rabbit was your idea, too, because our niece has wanted a pet rabbit for a long time?”

“Huh?” Auntie cocked a brow.

“You heard me. The bunny rabbit.”

“Don’t remind me. Now shut up and fetch the bunny rabbit a carrot, already. And bring a handful of crowns, in case we need to pay for the cookies.”

“I’ll give you something to pay for,” Uncle muttered, wandering off to the pantry.

“What the . . . hey, who told you to go rooting through that dwarf’s sack?” snapped Auntie, shooing the boy away—but it was too late, as the boy had already snarfed up a couple chocolate-caramel cookies, and was about to gobble a third.

“Gimme one!”, demanded the girl.

“Here you go,” said the boy, flinging the cookie right at her forehead. The cookie cracked in half, part of it tumbling to the floor.

“My hair!”, whined the girl, nearly dropping the bunny rabbit. The rabbit happily nibbled on a few crumbs and eagerly sniffed the air, wanting more Dwarf Scout Cookie crumbs.

Auntie stood her ground, matronly face flushing red. She pointed down the hallway with her stiffly extended index finger. “Go to your room, young man! You think about what you did, and if you keep up with this attitude of yours, you’ll be an indentured servant working deep down in the depths of the Dwarf Scout Cookie factory. Oh, you have no idea what hard work is, until you’ve labored long and hard with all the other naughty girls and boys who made life miserable for the grown-ups. Those dwarves are slave-drivers. Unbelievable work ethic. Now go—and don’t you dare slam that door or you will have so much hell to pay!”

The boy ran off crying to his room, but did not slam the door.

“What the heck was that all about?”, snorted Uncle, returning with a carrot and a handful of local coins.

“Oh, nothing. You really don’t want to know, seeing as you’re so preoccupied with thinking I’m the cause for everything. Dwarf Scout cookies, lightning bolts, bunny rabbits . . . whatever.” Auntie sighed and rolled her eyes.

For an uneasy moment the man, the woman, the girl and the bunny rabbit stood there staring at each other. They could all faintly hear the boy in his bedroom crying his eyes out in his pillow. The girl started giggling, until given a disquieting evil sidelong glare by Auntie.

A low moan escaped the lips of the unconscious dwarf, who had been lying on the couch. “The adventure . . . what an adventure . . . just to sell a few flippin’ boxes of Dwarf Scout cookies.”

“You were on an adventure?” the girl said, eyes full of excitement. Still holding the little bunny rabbit in her arms, she moved to the couch with the adults. “What kind of adventure?” , she asked the very disoriented dwarf, who rubbed his eyes. “These are my Auntie and Uncle.”

“Auntie? Uncle?” The dwarf glanced back and forth. “Adventure, and a big storm?” He blinked, looking very confuzzled. “Auntie Em? Uncle Henry?” He peeped up at the rabbit who looked on from the comfort of the little girl’s arms. “Toto, is that you, little doggie?”

“Wrong adventure!”, snapped Uncle. “That’s a bunny rabbit, for crying out loud.”

“Um, how are we going to explain this to the other dwarves?”, said Auntie, munching on a cookie. “Why were you selling cookies in the rain? Soggy cookies are a hard sell, even to those who like to dip them into their coffee and gross out everyone else.”

“It was part of my initiation ritual, as one of the Dwarf Scouts,” said the dwarf, sitting up.

“You guys have a hazing ritual?”, laughed Uncle. “So are you drunk, or what?”

“I just had to prove myself, that’s all. No alcohol involved. If I can sell Dwarf Scout Cookies in these conditions, then I’m unstoppable, as long as the cookies stay dry.”

“They did stay dry,” nodded Uncle in a slightly awed tone, opening another cookie box and helping himself to some fudge-dipped almond chocolate chip cookies.

“You are going to pay for that, right?”, asked the dwarf.

“Shut up and eat,” said Uncle, stuffing the dwarf’s mouth.

Auntie put a hand on the little girl’s shoulder. “There’s a lesson to be learned from all this,” she said, petting the bunny rabbit. “You can either learn it now, while you are young, or you can learn it the hard way, like our little overambitious but totally short-sighted friend here.”

The dwarf frowned and started to say something, but found his mouth stuffed with cookies again.

“And that is?”, grinned Uncle with some amusement, giving the dwarf some coffee. As soon as the dwarf successfully gulped, more cookies popped into his mouth.

“Work hard and make a difference, but don’t totally sell out to The Man.” Auntie smirked.

“Is that supposed to be some kind of moral?” scoffed Uncle. “That’s kind of lame.”

“Oh, and also—instead of wasting money on ridiculously overpriced cookies, why not simply donate directly to the charity, instead of fooling around with a middle-man?”

“But there is no middle man!”, argued the dwarf. “We don’t award cookie contracts to a bakery in Timbuktu. We make the cookies ourselves, manufacture the boxes, and—”

Auntie stuffed the dwarf’s face with more cookies. Some of it went down the wrong way, and during the coughing fit, she carried the dwarf to the front door.

The dwarf stopped coughing, and started hiccuping madly. “What the—*hic* *hic* *hic*!”

“Talk about scalping your customers,” growled Uncle, tossing a couple crowns in the now-empty sack and passing it to the dwarf. “You say this is an initiation ritual? Just say a very small tornado blew the cookie boxes away, and the cats got to them, or something.”

“Cats? *hic-hic* We don’t get *hic* tornadoes around here!”

“Well, we normally don’t get idiot sales-people selling stuff in the rain, either,” laughed Auntie. “Wait till I tell your Dwarf Scout leader about this! That’s called initiation, baby,” she said, pushing the dwarf out the door into the rain, and slamming the door.

Auntie and Uncle and the girl burst out laughing. Even the little boy confined to his bedroom stopped crying into his pillow, and started laughing hysterically.


—THE END—

---19-20 February 2006

(c)2006 Paul J. Doyle. All Rights Reserved.



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