The Mulch Elves
lived happily in gorgeous symbiosis with a colony of ants. Their home was a shared subterranean
structure near the roots of an over-sized Sycamore tree in Sacramento. Papa and Mama elf were very much in love with each other and proud
of their triplets, Edna, Ferris and Anna.
I will tell you a secret, dear ones, that elves eat most
foods that humans do, even though their palates are generally more discerning. Mama
and Papa enjoyed delicate foods and wines, particularly those that possessed
what Papa called “a great degree of subtlety”. Mama Mulch delighted in preparing hot meals and healthy foods for her family. The children would take turns thinking up new recipes and proposing them
to Mama, which she would serve with special pride. Elves eat their meals on large leaves,
similar to paper plates. Now and ten,
their leaves were laden with a beef filet or a coarse bread, which they ate
with special thankfulness.
At the end
of November, the season when all of the great sycamore’s leaves would fall to
the ground, Papa and Mama spoke about food in hushed tones together. The children knew that with the oncoming
winter, they were planning on storing up a great food pantry that would feed
them during the lean months. While the
ants and elves strategically planned for a famine, the neighboring humans (the
Coopers) were apparently planning a Thanksgiving feast for a crowd of friends
and family. The triplets had heard the
boy, Simon, talking about it with his friends as they rode their terrifying
skateboards in the driveway. They
reported the story back to their parents that evening, over a meal of mashed
potatoes and dill.
“How many
times have I told you not to go near the driveway?” Mama exclaimed, fanning herself as soon as
she heard.
“We were
inside of the gate,” Edna reassured her.
Mama sat back on her chair and nearly fainted. Ferris rose to his feet to fan her, but Papa
corrected him.
“Sit down,
son,” he said, chewing on potato. “As
long as the three of you are together inside of the gate, you should be
safe. Did you hide yourself among the lavender?”
“Yes,
Papa,” Anna reassured him. “Last week the Cooper girls were playing hopscotch near that spot while they ate candy. We were searching for
any stray pieces that might have scattered.”
“Who said
you could have candy?” Mama shrieked.
The children stared blankly at her, knowing that she was utterly displeased
with their behavior that afternoon. For a moment they thought the idea of the
Thanksgiving feast would be lost in the fact that they had walked too far and
searched for candy. Thankfully, Papa
wanted to know more.
“Dear,” he
sighed, then smiled at Mama. “Please let
the children finish their story. It
sounds there may be many more opportunities to correct them.” Then he raised his eyebrows and leaned
forward, his fork still poised over his potatoes. “Now children, please continue your story
about what you heard. What more do you
know of this feast?”
Edna took
it upon herself to share the details since she was the one who told stories in
thrift and speed. Mama and Papa listened
as Edna explained that the three children heard Simon tell his friend about a “Thanksgiving
feast” the family was hosting on the Thursday that was approaching. Apparently, the food would not all fit in the
refrigerators the Coopers had, so the family was keeping the overflow on the
back porch.
At this
point in the story, Mama gasped and brought her hands up to cover her
mouth. Anna smiled, nodding.
“The boy estimated
the size of the turkey they will be roasting,” she said loudly, interrupting
her sister. “He made a circle with his
long arms, Mama. It is equivalent to the
diameter of the sycamore’s trunk!”
Papa
gasped with delight. “Is there a chance
they will be opening the food, or perhaps preparing it on the back porch?” As
he said this, his face became extremely solemn.
“There may be a way for us to gather some for ourselves if we are
careful….” For the rest of the meal
there was silence as the family thought.
The
following day Papa and Mama led the family through the grass to the clearing,
where they could see the picnic table stacked with boxes and cans. Papa could also see something even more
ominous laying beyond: the ferocious lioness that the family called “Lucy”.
“Look at
that,” Papa whispered, peering from behind a pavement stone. “They’ve put that
cat out on the table to guard the food!”
The
children peeked around the stone to see the cat, lazily eyeing them. (Although most people cannot see elves, since
they are clever and blend into grasses and flowers, most cats are able to
detect them right away.) Lucy was not
curious enough to move from her spot, but lifted her back leg to lick her fur
flat, purposefully showing off her enormous feet to the elves.
“Maybe if
you distract her,” Mama said to Papa. “I
can run towards the porch and make a dash for any food that has fallen from the
table…”
“Are you
mad?” Papa whispered loudly. “I’ll not
endanger my life - or yours - just for a scrap of sausage! This Thanksgiving feast food is not worth
dying for!”
The
children were glad that Papa interrupted.
Once given a chance to think clearly, the family agreed that they were
not ready to die. They were quite ready
to walk away, when they heard a recognizable sound coming from the house. They looked up and saw that the Coopers were
opening the kitchen window, most likely to let fresh air in. The Mulches could hear happy conversation
coming from the house, as if their feast was already beginning. Suddenly, the smell of bacon frying in a pan
filled the yard.
“Mmmmmm!”
Ferris whispered, smiling. His sisters
giggled to themselves, breathing in the beautiful aroma and forgetting
everything else. The smell universally
accepted among the elves as the most sublime aroma that ever existed.
Because of this, the Mulches stood in the clearing, hypnotized and immobile. They didn’t even notice the cat creeping up to them in the distance. Lucy would have had a delicious snack that afternoon, since the Mulches were in such a trance, therefore incapable of defending themselves. Instead, the back door swung open, causing both cat and elves to snap to attention.
Because of this, the Mulches stood in the clearing, hypnotized and immobile. They didn’t even notice the cat creeping up to them in the distance. Lucy would have had a delicious snack that afternoon, since the Mulches were in such a trance, therefore incapable of defending themselves. Instead, the back door swung open, causing both cat and elves to snap to attention.
“Here,
Kitty, Kitty!” a strong voice came from the back porch. As Lucy turned her head, Papa and Mama bolted
upright, realizing that they were going to be eaten if they did not hide
themselves in the grass. As the family
darted behind some thick blades of greenery, Lucy trotted back to the
house. From their cover, the Mulch elves
could see the furry beast go into the kitchen and the door shut behind her.
I’m sorry
to say that at this moment Mama fainted and fell to the ground with a terrific
thud. Papa fanned some air in her
direction while the children looked out for the other furry beast the Coppers
possessed – an even more dangerous tigress by the name of Violet. Usually when one cat went inside, the other
came out.
Seeing no
threat, the children asked their father if they might go explore the
porch. He was still trying to revive
Mama and paid little attention to their pleas.
“Papa we
will be very fast,” Edna whispered.
“And we
will come right back,” Anna said.
Mama was
bleary eyed and had pink cheeks, but quickly was able to discern what the
children were asking.
“I can’t
risk sending you on the chance that another one of those beasts will come out
the door,” she said. “Although I have
can smell the aroma of bacon, I cannot let it cloud my judgment.” As she said
this she looked up at her children, who stood above her. Their faces held such hope and promise that
she was quickly changing her mind. “Papa,
should we allow them to look at the place?
Perhaps they can see things that might be worth bringing back to our
food storage…”
Poor Papa
was torn, only just recovering from a near cat attack and his wife fainting
before him. He finally gave his
permission, but only because the smell of bacon was in the air and anything
seemed possible.
The
children were magnificent. They could
hear a cacophony of cooking noise coming from the kitchen, on which they
decided to capitalize. They used their most treasured maneuvers to advance
toward the porch and were able to scale the cement platform with ease. The massive table, laden with boxes and cans,
seemed even more monstrous up close. Also,
underneath it were plenty of scraps, but not from the groceries. It seemed as if the family had recently picnicked
in that very spot and plenty of perishable delights lay all about, ready to be
eaten.
Elves are
not scavengers, dear ones. They would
rather eat a fresh tomato than a bit of food that has fallen from a plate, but this
case was different. The children could see
that the food that had fallen from the table was unusually shaped, like the
pictures of lava spewing from a volcano they had seen in a book left behind
from the Cooper children. All around lay
gnarly pieces of fried dough that glowed with such a strange red-orange color that
it held the children spellbound.
Ferris examined
a large specimen (the piece was bigger than the Mulch sleeping chamber),
feeling the sides of it carefully with his hands, then placing his nose up
against it.
“It smells
like sulfur,” he called back to his sisters.
“Sulfur is
not good,” Edna walked over to him and smelled it herself. “I see what you mean.” The children agreed that the smell was both
curious and inviting, which made them decide to taste it. Ferris carefully removed a splinter from the food
and placed it in his mouth. As the girls
watched, he reacted quickly, clasping his hands to his chest and gasping for
air. His face became a bright red, and
he fanned at his mouth with panic.
“HOT!” he
choked.
The girls
looked everywhere, but they soon realized that there was no water around.
“Hurry!”
Edna said. “Let’s get back to the grass!” The girls took their brother by the hands and
half walked – half dragged him back toward the greenery. They made it to the place where Papa and Mama
were wating for them. As Edna tried to
break off a stalk of grass, Mama examined her red-faced son with great fright.
“What
happened?!”
“He ate
the sulfur food!” Anna cried. She was
frightened that her brother might not ever return to normal. He only seemed to grow redder by the
moment.
“What
sulfur food?” Papa asked. Edna had
managed to chew some grass in her mouth and place it into her brother’s. At first, Ferris choked on it, but soon, he
chewed it and his face started fading into a creamy shade of normal. “I knew
this Thanksgiving food was nothing to be trifled with!”
As Edna
explained about the fried red-orange dough, Mama hugged her son, cradling his
face and blowing cool air on him. Within a few moments, the family was much
restored and made the trek home, eating nothing but yogurt for dinner. They were happy to have such a dull food
after such a stressful day.
I’m sorry
to tell you, dear ones, that the food that Ferris Mulch tasted that day was nothing
more than a Flaming Hot Cheetos, (a particular favorite of Simon Cooper, who
had spilled a few on the back porch). As
I told you earlier, the palate of an elf is much more discerning than humans,
so what is delicious to us might just kill an elf child.
I also
should add that when the colony of ants heard about the Mulch family's near death experience, they quickly assembled a line
and made their way to the back porch. There they retrieved most of the crumbs from the Cheetos. Ants love Flaming Hot Cheetos, especially when they can have them with an ice cold Coke.
But you already knew that, didn't you?
But you already knew that, didn't you?