Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Dread and the Fear of Munchkins

Dorothy followed the yellow brick road for a solid two minutes before realizing just how much the tornado had taken out of her. The pain in her feet brought on by having never worn heels before aided in this discovery, as did the grumbling in her stomach. She needed at least a brief respite before embarking on this odd quest and she couldn’t think of any group that would be more willing to offer this than the freakishly giddy munchkins she’d just left. She stopped to take off the dead women’s shoes and rubbed her feet for a minute before doubling back. While holding them she realized just how creepy the whole thing was and wondered very much if all this wasn’t actually a nightmare brought on by extreme stress.

“Best not to think about it.” She concluded, and walked back.

The munchkins were, shockingly, still dancing when she got back. When she explained to them what she was wondering they were all too happy to help and way too happily lead her to the pub for some snacks. It was an interesting endeavor to get through the door and she could only be grateful that she wasn’t any taller or she might not have been able to stand up inside. They offered her a whole variety of candies, cakes, tarts and other sugary dessert-type of entrees and even though she knew Aunty Em would’ve killed her for eating such dishes before supper she couldn’t resist. Besides, she reasoned, it would be inhospitable to refuse what was offered.

They offered her ale to drink but as she knew that the farmhands got yelled at when they drank it she figured it would be unsafe for her to try and asked for water instead. Although they did have it on hand they were confused that she would want it. She asked them what they normally drank and was met with a chorus of “Sex on the beach!” from everyone In hearing distance. She hadn’t the foggiest idea what it was but she observed two facts about it very quickly. One: Munchkins loved this “Sex on the Beach” more than they loved dancing and singing. Two: They get very, very handsy when they drank it. Unfortunately for her their height seemed to give them just the right angle to reach right up under her skirt and pinch her butt. She squealed her disapproval but was met by laughter every time.

Realizing the futility of her attempts at modesty she made her way to the corner to sit down and cut off access to her already sore derriere. There she met two older Munchkins with shockingly white hair and beards. One was bit pudgier and more inebriated and the other was a bit thinner and more observant to the chaos around him. They were both the oldest looking people she’d seen in this place so far and she couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved at their lack of involvement in the festivities. Unlike the others who were “hootin’ and hollerin’” as Uncle Henry would’ve described it, these two seemed content to simply sit and drink.

“So, you’re the one who killed that witch, huh?” the pudgy one asked.

“Oh, it was an accident,” she tried to reassure them.

“Don’t waste your apology, you did us all a big favor,” the other reassured her.

“Yeah, she had big ol’ stick up her butt,” the pudgy one stated quite factually.

“Stick, hah! You mean forest!” the thin one countered.

At this the pudgy one burst into hysterical laughter that shook him so hard she thought he might be having a heart attack. The thin one responded by laughing at the pudgy one. Not wanting them to see her confusion she tried to join in the laughter but after a full minute had passed with no signs of them slowing down she gave up and looked for the exit. She made her way through the mob with her hands covering her behind and safely slipped out the door. Toto was waiting for her patiently outside and she was nothing but glad to see him.

“You’re lucky you weren’t in there,” she said to him. He looked back at her with an expression which stated that he already knew that based on the noises that had been emerging.

She decided to take a small walk around the village just until her food settled at which point she resigned to get back on the road and get as far away from here as possible. She passed several quaint looking houses as she made her way towards the edge of the village and there she found what looked to be a small path into the woods. Being the inquisitive little girl that she was she followed it and found that it lead to a small clearing with a relatively large box in the middle. She opened the door of the box and found what could only be described as an outhouse inside. The seat had a large hole in the middle about the right height for the munchkins and she assumed that she knew what was down there. As she had to go anyway she sat down and did what one does in an outhouse.

A gargling sound emerged from underneath her followed by a long, ragged scream. She jumped up, hit her head on the ceiling, and burst through the door to the clearing. The screaming continued as she got her knickers back on and she looked around just in time to see the whole group of munchkins making their way into the clearing. The horror she’d initially felt in reaction to the scream only built as they stared at her fixing her waist with expressions that probably matched her own.

“I- I don’t know what happened,” she tried to explain. “I was just using the outhouse when-“

Another scream interrupted her, this time from a munchkin who had apparently entered the outhouse and seen the sprinkling she’d left on the seat during her hasty escape. He emerged slowly and faced the others.

“She has defecated on the Olimander,” he said. Shocked gasps echoed around the clearing as each of the munchkins turned to face her. The older thin one she’d been sitting with in the pub started walking toward her with a pointed finger.

“We welcome you to our village, share our food with you, offer the protection of the ruby slippers and this is how you repay us?” He spoke slow and loud with the promise of dreaded actions behind his words. She wanted to defend herself and to explain that she had no idea what an Olivander was or why it would be living at the bottom of an outhouse but the looks in the faces of the crowd told her that she’d better just keep her mouth shut. The old munchkin’s pointed finger turned into a fist and she gulped. The members of the lollipop guild she’d met earlier emerged from the pack swinging their giant lollipops in their hands like they knew how to use them. The seemingly innocent girls from the lullaby league started walking towards her swinging the ballet slippers like nunchakus. She backed into the door of the outhouse and waited for the first blow. It came from the old man who’d been leading the mob in the form of a fist to the gut. Lucky for her Toto bit the little man’s shin with the force that only deceivingly small dogs can muster just before the fist made contact and he let out a loud yell.

She made a break for it and barreled through the crowd, knocking over at least three of the lullaby girls in the process. She ran as fast as she could out of the clearing and back into the village toward the yellow brick road with Toto following on her heels and the munchkins just behind him yelling and brandishing a variety of impromptu weapons. She didn’t pause as she rounded the corner of the little pub and put on great deal of speed once she hit the open road. The mob trailed her for what seemed like a mile and likely would have caught up had her legs not been substantially longer than theirs. The blisters on her feet were worse than any farm injury she’d ever expereinced.

Although Dorothy faced many more frights on the long, circuitous route back to Kansas none compared to the terror of the Munchkin attack.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Thank you for your comment! I will love it and hug it and pet it and call it George. Or, you know, just read and reply to it. But still- you rock!