Fairy Tale Friday 8
Dumpleschizkin
What the hell. Why not?
In a glittering city, thousands of miles away, stood a tall, golden tower, many stories high. And the tower was packed with pinks, bustling about and doing the sorts of things pinks have been programmed to do.
Some of these pinks performed a sorcery called marketing, where they would wish very, very hard, until masses of other pinks were convinced that they wanted to trade paper for stuff to thicken the hairs on some parts of their bodies, and other stuff to rip the hairs from other parts of their bodies, and contraptions to shift the fat from one part of them to another, and products to make the fat disappear, and other products to put the fat back on. These pinks had a good grasp on pink vanity.
Some were evil wizards, who controlled the movements of other pinks by buying and selling the concept of ownership of far off kingdoms, using an ever-changing and completely subjective notion of imaginary currency, represented by blips of light on a glowing tablet, amounting to nothing tactile or worthwhile anywhere in the world except the toil of other pinks, who were so far away that they were practically just concepts themselves.
These wizardly pinks could make the other pinks jubilant or suicidal, simply by shifting these blips of light around at the right or wrong time.
And near the top of the tower, in a tiny chamber towards the center, was a Big Boss with a great big head, who clicked away on a loom. And this loom produced an endless coil of golden shit, which was to be desired for some reason. The Big Boss did not question it, as it was a financial pleasure for her.
One day, the Boss was asked to use her loom to produce slack. "I can not do this," she said, "my loom can only weave gold plated shit!" But all hell would break loose if she didn't succeed. So she wished very hard, and suddenly a hideous naked pink troll appeared at her feet and began to dance around.
"Big Boss!" said the troll. "I can make your loom spin slack! But if I do this, you must promise to give me all your Easy Mac." The Boss agreed, and the loom spun slack.
The very next week the Boss was asked to produce more slack. Again, she clenched up her giant head as tight as she could and wished very hard, and a whirling purple tarp appeared out of thin air, and from it emerged the beastly little naked troll. "I will make your loom spin slack again, but if I do, you must give me all your Precious Moments figurines!" The boss agreed, and the loom spun more slack.
A week went by, and again, the Boss was asked for moar slack! The tangy, cheesy aroma from the troll's last visit had just begun to dissipate, and the Boss was hesitant to summon it again. But she did, and from a swirling vortex of odors and grease erupted the roly poly little greased-up naked troll, who said, "Big Boss, I will make your loom spin slack, but if I do, you must give me a stay-at-home job with high salary and benefits and an annual bonus and I don't want to work when it's rainy and I don't want to use my own supplies and I'm not paying for a uniform, so good luck with that!"
But this, the Boss could not do, for every day she herself had to drag ass into the glittering city and step over the magical bums and dodge the earthbound splatter of the enchanted pigeons of the kingdom and ride the charmed floating box up to the top of the golden tower, and sit there for hours, weaving gold plated shit.
"Okay then," said the troll. "Just guess my name."
So the Boss tapped her chin, and concentrated, and leaned down so that her massive head was level with the naked little troll's pudgy mottled face, and said, "Is your name...Dumpleschizkin?"
The troll flew into a rage! She stammered, and sputtered, and her spittle flew. "How did you know! How did you guess my name! You used black magic! You are from darkytown!"
"I guessed it because I am the Big Boss of your Area, and because it has been fingerprinted across your belly in dried chocolate sauce," said the Boss.
At that moment, the door to the Boss's tiny chamber flew open, and a tall, handsome, grinning figure entered the room. With his teeth clenched over his pipe, the figure said, "Hello. It is me, "Bob". I heard you can weave gold plated shit. I've got a use in my army for someone who can do that. What do you say we go party in Vegas for a few weeks and talk out the details?" And looking down, he saw the frothing, furious naked troll stamping her calloused feet and carrying on. "Ugh, what the fuck is that?" he asked, and punted her out the window. She fell 34 stories! And the purebred shih tzus of an overpaid hairdresser carried her bones back to their condo penthouse, and used them for chew toys.