Friday, November 30, 2018

Fartmoodle: Chapter 6

How to Capture a Fartmoodle
Chapter 6: “But it’s half off!”
First Edit
by: Nellie Tobey

The Goblin market was nothing like the descriptions Steve found in the archives. The smell was not so glorious, and everything was clean and well kept.

Documents had been dated well over two centuries ago.  Steve imagined it was under new management by now. The Gremlins with him had turned back into their amphibious like forms, accept two nervous younglings at the back of the small troop. Even though the elder Gremlins had reassured the young ones over and over that there was no danger, they refused to change out of the sparrow, and into traditional form.

*** One Document was an explorer’s text given long ago by a group of Nymphs seeking the where-abouts of the portal to unknown lands far to the East. It was titled: “Never trade songs with a Goblin.” It was thought that shortly after they had found the portal a new text was written titled: “The winds of the Fartmoodle clan are not to be traveled upon lightly”***

Goblin’s were also, much less scary than had been written in the text.
They were slightly orange, thin but sturdy, and not too different from a Fairy, or a Sprite. Larger perhaps, and without wings to shuttle them about, but all in all, the biggest difference were the very thick long pointed ears, that were adorned with hoops of gold, and dangling loops of glass beads.

The oldest Welshi, whom they called ‘OldRed’ pointed things out to Steve as they moved down the wide twisting alley It was filled with the wares of tiny folk from all over the world.
OldRed had a grim smile saying, “That is some of the most comfortable cloth you will find. The Whisps say they get it from a mountain gnome clan that spends all their time spinning it’s threads into the most fine weave imaginable.” Steve looked at the vendor. The vaporous form of the whisp looked much like a bipedal fox, it’s tiny paws holding the dark olive fabric up on display.

Steve wrote notes as they made their way through. “What currency is most traded here?” Steve had read that in the market it was common for coins of useful metal to be traded for items. The Queen had seen to it that a large sum of silver nuggets was split between himself and Tooty in case a need would arise.

One of the sparrows hopped up next to Steve. “We don’t trade with metal as much anymore. The Goblins came up with a system they call Credit… and if you don’t pay up when the collection comes do, they will throw you in the mines to work off your debt.”

The other sparrow stayed behind looking around excitedly for nothing in particular. Tiny almost inaudible tweets escaped every time it hopped. Steve pulled out a few of the nuggets. The Gremlin decorated with blue spots snatched it out of Steve’s hand, “Don’t go waving that around!” Blue handed it to OldRed who tucked it safely in the skirt pocket.

Steve felt the little sparrow retreat to the back again. “ But I want to buy something to bring back to the clan.”
“We’ll do that, they wouldn't give a Pixie a scrap for twice that in gold.” OldRed shook it’s pocket now containing the nuggets. “You’ve got enough here for something really nice. What is it you want, and I’ll send one of my tribe to fetch it.”
Steve was wondering if he was being taken advantage of for a moment, but realized a strange paranoia had crept into the group, and suddenly everyone was much closer than was usually acceptable. Steve noticed a book vendor up ahead. “We do sorely need more educational materials about the world in our libraries. Do you think your people could pick out a few of the newest books they can?”
BrewMinister stepped up and in a quick snatch pocketed the silver nuggets from OldRed in an almost imperceptible move.  “I’m the best at languages among us, I’ll find what I can, but newer books are not easy to get a hold of.” BrewMinister nodded at old red and pried himself out of the now packed together group of Gremlins.
Steve couldn't help but feel his wings being uncomfortably cramped against his body as they kept moving, leaving BrewMinister behind to buy books.
With the ebony bushy head of hair two inches higher then the gremlins, Steve stuck out of the middle like a sprouting mushroom in a patch of blue-green rocks.

The pack kept moving along until a massive street opened up through the center of the market. A city now sprang up where a giant wall had previously blocked it from view. The archives had said the Goblins were very handy for building and engineering large structures, but this was advanced akin to the human city back home. The thought of how they had managed to make the houses from such small brickwork and harvested oak branches had Steve ogling at it’s expansive architecture.

******************* ---- ***********************

Tooty had dropped her calm vestige when they first walked through the sprawling city. It was fantastic, and the smells coming from the south side made her mouth water. “Oi’ what is down there!?” Tooty pointed in the direction of the smell. The large silver weasel paused for a moment making quick flowing hand movements at the striped ferret on the left.
  The ferret nodded and changed into a more furry version of the traditional goblin shape. “It’s the food district. Me and two other’s can take you down to explore while KettleStruck checks our exit is cleared.” Tooty had been told the Goblin market could be a dangerous place by her father, but nothing so far seemed to jump out as any particular threat. Having the Gremlins as guides did give her a sense of being protected, and she welcomed the companionship.
  Tooty nodded and stepped away from the silver weasal KettleStruck, and towards what must be something resembling Roasted Chicken. She always wanted to try that dish, but no one was willing to help her catch, or kill a chicken.

  As KettleStruck struggled to get into the form of a field mouse, the others were busy leaving a small trail of orange glass beads around the entryway to the city.  KettleStruck was getting attached to the new member of the troop, and was not going to allow some silly gambling debt put any of the troop in danger. It was time to be humble, as humble as could be anyways and still be able to run through small spaces if necessary.

  The smell came closer as they proceeded and Tooty entered the shop at the end of their route.  Another wall stood concealing some unseen part of the market on it's opposite side all along the edge of the road.
  Tooty pulled some of the silver nuggets from the smaller pocket of her uncles coat.  She had lost a small handful in the bottom pockets when she forgot how deep they really ran.  "How much of these can I trade for enough of that, "  She pointed to the large slab of what looked like meat, and smelled like the human homes during the holiday feasts, " for me and my companions?"

  The gremlin had a look of horror on it's face.  The pale yellowish goblin with ten golden hoops in each ear stared at the gremlin, then back to Tooty.  "We use credit here."
  The gremlin tugged at Tooty's sleeve, now like a giant grasshopper with a nervous tick. "We can eat at the village, honest, we should go."
  Tooty felt the nervousness, but could not place it's intentions. "Nonsense, Every tiny folk needs to eat, and everybody trades."   Tooty turned back to the goblin behind the counter. "Please, it's good silver, how much do you need for a portion for each of us."
  The goblin plucked a nugget from Tooty's out-streched hand  and stuck it in it's mouth for a moment, then plucked it back out with a grin.  "You've got 8 nuggets there, I say 7 should suffice."
  Tooty handed six more nuggets to the goblin, and it started whistling a happy tune as it cut large chunks off the meat and placed it on five plates for the very nervous gremlins, and one Fartmoodle.
  They all gathered at a table in the corner.  Tooty noticed none of them digging into the food as she was.  "This tastes fantastic!  Do gremlins not have the kind of hunger us pixies do?"  The four gremlins made hand motions and not saying a word started devouring the meal.
  Tooty still could not place what was going on, but something was making the gremlins very jumpy.  There had to be danger she couldn't see.  "Do you think the goblin would give me a recipe for this?"
  The gremlins fingers moved furiously, and a couple gremlins did large silent claps.  " We have to go.  We can not stay here Tooty."
   Another gremlin, now looking like a very tiny, but ferocious badger growled. "Don't talk to them, we have to get to KettleStruck and the rest of our tribe as soon as we can."
  Tooty nodded, and taking one last morsel off her plate, followed the badger and three ferrets out of the small establishment and back south.

  When they met up with Steve, his group looked ready to jolt too.  They stepped to the side together as the gremlins got into a very silent but heated war of hands.  "I think we might be in trouble."  Steve handed her a torn parchment, and had her sharpened needle hanging at his side.
  Tooty smoothed out the piece of paper to reveal a picture of the two smaller Gremlins framed on one side, and KettleStruck's grey longhaired rabbit form on the other side.  Complete with the one large purple spot on the top of it's head.
It didn't take long to see the southern translation in the long list of languages displayed.  "Wanted for credit overdues: Please report these individuals immediately"
  Tooty felt OldRed's hand on her arm.  "We really need to go, and quickly."

Wednesday, November 14, 2018

Fartmoodles: Chapter 5

How to Capture a Fartmoodle
Chapter 5:  Let it go
Edit 1
by: Nellie Tobey

The villiage saw them off after morning meals.  A wagon holding Steve and Tooty, was being led by her father in the full royal combat uniform. The soldiers guarded and pulled it into the thick tall grass. It was the first time someone had left the village for foriegn territory in a century.
    Some villagers cheered, some stood in solemn silence, some saluted, and a lot of the younger ones watched in awe.  Uncle FunkUnder took up the rear on a white faced rodent. Once the queen was done informing him of the dire circumstances that would befall him if Tooty were not returned by the Gremlins, he had decided the portal was, after all, closer to home, and he could just head back to is village after the parade was complete. 
  It was a short time, and they reached the old tree.  A tunnel of ferns formed under the ancient tree's shady reach.
  Inside three portals made of various stacks of mossy rocks stood a little taller then a large rabbit. Despite everything else being quite dry from lack of rain,  the arching stacks of stone glistened with abundant dewy droplets. 
  The newest portal was recently erected by the HammeredByMorning Gremlins earlier that week.  A small greeting party of thin big bellied green and black speckled toads stood watch at that portal.

  Tooty leaned over the wagon to get her father's attention.  "Are those gremlins?"  She pointed at the large toads.
  Her father sniffled a bit.  "I've always had an allergy to the bastards."  Then he wiped a tear from his cheek and pointed.  "Watch Tooty."
  Steve and Tooty both watched the toads stand bi-pedal on their floppy feet, and transform.  It wasn't much of a stretch for the gremlins disguise themselves as toads. Other than the cloths, smaller feet, and a bit less amphibious face; the two forms were not very dissimilar.
   The lead Gremlin, who was named ImNotDizzy, was holding a stick spear with a sharp metal point, and a leather stripped grip. On it's shaft hung the colors of their rank. Wrapped there was a paisley pink and brown piece of silk with glass clear beads dangling from it's edges.  The Gremlin stepped up to the Grand Master and stomped it's left foot. "Your escort is here to see you safely through the portal and pass the goblin market." The Gremlin nodded at Tooty and Steve climbing from the wagon.  "We will guide you to our city in the great forests of the peninsula."
   Tooty's Father saluted. "I am the Grand Master of Obnoxious Odors."  He extended a hand that was holding a bag of Romanian Rye seeds.  "I offer this gift for the passage to your lands of my most precious daughter, "  he paused pulled a small cloth from a pocket with his free hand and blew his nose. "Miss Tooty of the Cheese Cutter clan."
   She stood next to her father presenting herself and the now tattered scroll.  A second, somewhat less speckled Gremlin walked up and took the scroll.
   Steve was unloading a few bags and was trying not to be completely panic stricken.
   The lead Gremlin took the bag of seeds, and the handkerchief from the Grand Master.  He shoved both into a skirt pocket.  "We accept your most generous gift."
   As Steve slowly joined,  Uncle FunkUnder glided up next to Tooty on the anxious opossum.  "My dear I want you to take this with you."  He dismounted and began to take off his coat of many pockets.
  Tooty gasped.  A garment of that quality was passed down for generations, and usually only once the owner had passed.  "I can't take that uncle!"
  FunkUnder shooshed her and talked quietly in her ears as he placed the coat on her.  "If you come across a bottle of Gremlin Brew #66 just tuck it in the deepest pocket."  He looked over to see if any of the Welshi had heard.  A little quieter he said. "It's the third pocket, inside, on your left.  Deepest one, that.  You can fit a case in there and not ever feel a bottle clink."  Tooty smiled and grabbed what might be her last hug.
  "You'll be getting this back."  She ran her hands down it's smooth brown texture.  Someone had embroidered tiny blue flowers on the cuffs and hem.
  Her uncle mounted his opossum and gave a salute. "I'm counting on it."
  He turned and road away without looking back.
  Steve now stood ready.  A bag in each hand.  One held a bevy of supplies, some empty papers and writing utensils, Tooty's weapon, spices, glass test tubes, some fresh Capsicum annuum <great for inducing human thirst> and quite a few bags of tea to trade in the goblin market.
  The other bag was a few tunics, and the rest of Tooty's personal belongings.
  Steve set the bags down  and presented himself.  A Gremlin with a bright red pair of eyes approached and took the bags.  It carried them over to a basket and placed them in roughly.
  Steve knelt before Tooty's father. "I will do all I can to bring her home in fine condition."
  The king stopped sniffling and putting a tremendous pair of arms around Steve and said,   "One single hint of a bruise, or scratch on her, I will personally present you as stew to Hummer Garflat."  
  Tooty pinched her father's ear.  He released Steve and then embraced her a little more gently.  Tooty heard him holding back a sob in her hair.  She patted him in between his wings.  "I will bring you back such honor father that the clan will write stories about us."  
   Her father let go and saluted. "You already have." And with a sharp turn he wheeled away and didn't look back.  The rest of his ranks, stood tall, nodded at Tooty, and followed the Grand Master's example.  
  It was time to for her and Steve to go with the Welshian Gremlins.
  The bright red garbed Gremlin stepped up to Tooty and did an awkward bow. "I will be your guide, and liaison for your stay with us,"   beckoning Tooty and Steve to follow.  When Steve presented himself next to Tooty to enter the gate, it growled up toward him.  "We do not allow your kind to proceed before our...."  The liaison looked through a book full of words written in Gremlin, "feminine."

  Steve took stepped out of the way, and watched the majority of the larger, more sturdy looking Gremlins to go through.  What he assumed to be a soldier approached and tapped him gingerly on the shoulder.
  "You can call me the BrewMinister.  We can follow in a few moments."  
  It smoothed out it's skirt and reached into a pocket, producing a rather strange looking plant.  The few left gathered around and all started taking a small piece from it's spiky foliage.  BrewMinister offered Steve a small piece too.  
  He took it, nodded, saying, "I'm Steve."  And shoved the plant piece in his mouth like the others had.
  One Welshi garbed in a pair of really loose capri's, stepped in close. Steve being a couple inches taller, could see a large bald patch atop the bluish head, surrounded in long flowing copper ringlets.  The gremlin smiled up at Steve as it chewed on the plant.   
  The little group was watching Steve tentatively.  They all seemed to stop at the same time when the ginger and blue gremlin  swallowed the plant and took a copper dagger from a pocket.  "You ever play kiss the frog Steve?"

*** It wasn't just customary for the masculine ones to stay behind and let the leaders go ahead to scout, it was also customary, since discovering the delicious plant,  for those in the back of the pack to sew it's seeds whenever they found suitable soil.  A rather wrinkly grey gremlin was clawing into the dirt around the portal and shoving the seeds elbow deep into the ground.  
   This gremlin had made a bet that this Steve character would be inclined to actually kiss the frog, but watching the fear ooze from that pixies face... He was pretty sure he should have laid a much larger bet. *** 


  Tooty was enamored by the wildlife sprinting about as they exited the portal.  Wildlife tended to avoid the Fartmoodles on their stretch of territory.

***On the whole continent actually, but the Fartmoodle Pixies never really considered this as an oddity.  Animals could sense the presence of a Fartmoodle from a great distance.  Next time you see someone scolding their dog for barking at nothing, be prepared for a not so gentle breeze***

   The gremlins were silent as they marched forward.  Occasionally Tooty could see them exchanging a complicated hand gesture, and hear a snicker, or giggle from the gremlins trailing the small party.  
   Tooty was happy enough to take in the excitement of seeing so many new things.  A bird bigger then the tree stump flew close overhead and screeched a beautiful song. She watched it as much as she could until the forest canopy obscured it from sight.  
  The Welshians in the back suddenly burst into laughter and Tooty was snapped out of her daydreaming.  The lead Gremlin stopped the procession and placing long knotty fists on the hips, pointed at one of the smaller gremlins, now in the shape of a black mouse.  "You! Habringer, come up here and ask our guest that question." 
  The mouse approached, it's whiskers twitching in a rather serious way.  The sweet voice came out in a somber tone.  "Is it true... Miss Tooty, "   It looked at the leader, and decided to finish. "is it true that a Fartmoodle Pixie has magic that can make a grown horse run away from it's own tail?"
  The leader held back a grin.  It took great effort to look away from the mouse then to Tooty.  They all,  gremlins, but also a mouse, a large blue lizard, and a sparrow watched Tooty apprehensively waiting for an answer.  "Only our best can manage such a feet, but yes."
  They all started giggling and handing back and forth to each other what seemed like tiny velvet bags that jingled.  

  *** Gremlins liked betting about as much as they liked the sound of a freshly pulled cork from a bottle of fine wine. ***

  The leader handed Tooty a small bag also.  "My bet was that you'd be angry when they asked."  The gremlin smiled. "I am pleased I was wrong." 
  Tooty smiled and as they made their way through the denser tree's, the gremlins transformed from one critter to another, hopping and jumping around her to ask questions.
  "Do they really go up close when it happens?"
  "Is it like a sport?"
  "Can we do it?"
  They approached a thick tangle of thorny bramble stretching a great length to their left and right.  The Leader quieted them all and poked a spear into the green tangle.  The leader had now taken on the form of a weasel with silver fur.  The weasel twisted and turned the spear, poking and prodding.  A loud Click, and the vine like plant started to retract to reveal a wooden door large enough for a prize pig to fit through.  
  The weasel motioned to the opening door, "Welcome to the goblin market honored guest!"  
   All the gremlins had transformed into weasels. One might have been a small ferret.  Tooty was really wishing Steve wasn't so far behind.

  They had finally crossed through the portal and began to make a zig-zagging pattern to their destination.
  Steve had not in fact kissed the frog.   Or been defeated in the ritual game of riddles.   He felt he might have gained a bit of respect from the Gremlins after he pulled out the bottle of Goblin Punch the queen had snuck to him before they left.
She cornered him in a hall, handed him the bottle saying, "If the Gremlins start giving you too much grief about what the length of a frog's tongue really is.... Just pull this out of your pocket and start pouring."   
   She walked away as quickly as she had come, and left Steve standing dumbstruck. He was ever so grateful now.  The grey gremlin had transformed into a raccoon and was steadily answering Steve's questions as the rest led the way. 
   "So you don't have females and males?"  
   The raccoons face kind of squinted and answered. "Well we do, kind of, but mostly it's just kind of rude to make assumptions without knowing someone."
   Steve wrote a note.  He knew Tooty would pick up the nuances quick enough, but he was not going to leave without establishing a textual guide to life among Welshian Gremlins of the America's. He flipped a few pages, and his wings were batting excitedly.  "Unless they have the skirts on?"
  The raccoon sniffed, and pointed at the other wrinkly grey gremlin near the front of the pack.   "A skirt is a choice too.  But you won't find many of us older males without one."
   Steve referred back to a note the older gremlin had given him earlier.
   "Oh... OH...."
   *** The note:
         Welshian males of the older persuasion all wore a nice loose skirt.
         This is mainly a community service
         At a certain age gremlins became quite wrinkly and itchy.
         Long ago it was discovered a skirt kept them in much comfort.
         A special counsel agreed that it had a positive result.
         The saying goes, 'an old Welshi that has to wear pants is a grumpy gremlin'
         And everyone's life was made better when agremlin is not enraged by a              flaming rash in their undercroft.

  The raccoon sniffed about the air pensively then relaxed again.  
  Steve hesitated, but asked anyways.  "What about the females?"
  The raccoon sniffed the air again, and there was a palpable tension among all the gremlins.  They all shifted into larger rodents.
  "Well FlutterBait, "  the nick name had been chosen for Steve during the game of kiss the frog. "They usually turn into weasels or ferrets when they are grumpy, and no amount of skirt will keep you safe."


Friday, November 9, 2018

Fartmoodles: chapter 4

How to Capture a Fartmoodle
Chapter 4: -- locked and loaded --
Edit: message from gremlins has changed
by: Nellie Tobey

   It was dark when they popped back into the village.  Steve was in awe of Tooty, she really was spectacular.  "You knew?  How long did you know?"
   She felt like blushing again, it was really a matter of perspective.  "The spot we arrived on, had a patch of imp blossoms in the distance."
   Steve frowned.  "I didn't see them.... How did I not see them?"
   Tooty patted him on his shoulder as they headed to the cellars to see what foodstuffs had been left over from dinner.  "Well they were behind a very massive troll who threatened to eat us when you introduced yourself."
    Steve felt her warm hand on his shoulder leave, and was a bit sad for it.  "You're right of course.  I should have prepared for that mission so much better.  I put you in danger and as your professor ...."
    Tooty opened the wine cork assembly that made the door to the underground cellar. "You really did a great job Steve, there is no way you could have known. I won't tell my mother, I promise."  She started down the stairs and turned around.  " You are my favorite teacher."
  Steve smiled despite trying not to.  "I guess that makes you my favorite student.  Even though this all might end up killing me."
  Steve lit the tea light candle that sat at the bottom of the stairs.  A simple trick most Fartmoodles learned early.  The number 1 rule taught along with this trick was never use it on a mission.  Flammable gases were never too far away.
  Tooty looked into the large covered tin coffee cup that held the nights feast.
She stuck a finger in the grool, and tasting it made a 'Blech!' noise, then began scooping a bowl out for Steve.
  "I almost wish I knew what this 'taste' felt like.  It really is all the same to me."  Steve took the bowl from Tooty's outstretched hand.  Tooty scooped out a smaller bowl for herself and began dousing it in some powdered pepper and Coriander she had pocketed at the Troll's house.
  "Listen Steve, I really appreciate your lessons, I really do but,"  She finished stirring her bowl and headed back up the flat rock steps.  "I have battle training tomorrow and I really have to get some rest."
  Steve had a turn to blush now.  His hair shimmered a dark auburn.  It might have curled a little bit more then usual too.  "Yes your grace, I will see you next week."   They exchanged a belly salutation.  Steve put on his serious face. "And please DO be on time for once."
   Tooty nodded and headed home.  The biggest, stinkiest tree in all the village, but she had a remedy for that.  A sesame seed in each nostril helped a lot, especially if it were soaked in peppermint for a couple days before storage in one of the many essential pockets of her half-dress.

  Upon entering the cavernous stump Tooty realized it was echoing the sounds argument.  Her mother sounded ready to throw a caterpillar.   Which she has done on a few occasions.  "I'm not sending anyone into Welshian territory!"
   A slightly familiar voice answered.  "You know it may be better for everyone, She just isn't like the rest of you."  It was her great uncle FunkUnder.
  The Queen was actually sounding flustered.  Tooty approached the great hall slowly, trying to catch what they might be up to.  "I don't care if she's not like us, and if anyone in this village has any desire to express so, THEY can go to live with those troll loving TeaTotalers!"
   *** Some words do get lost in translation, but it is close enough to the intention that being called a TeaTotaler in the gremlin world was similar to be calling a ButtBubbler in Pixie cultures.  Mostly those who were NOT of the Fartmoodle clan.  It was actually the first badge earned by pixie scouts of this clan. ***
  Tooty understood it was about her, and stopped where she stood to hear the conversation's conclusion.
  Her uncle popped open a bottle. With the air growing a bit light, and humorous, from it's scent, FloofMuch was inclined to distill her temper.  "You can't bribe me with that swill."   As she said this, she grabbed her goblet and handed it to him. It was difficult to maintain her royal composure in his gnarled ancient presence. He had taught her mother how to sew, how to fight, and how to sneak into the best pub kitchens in all the continent.  A skill her mother had personally taught her, and one she intended on teaching Tooty this summer.
  FunkUnder pulled a scroll from a great deep pocket in the tail of his coat.  He took a rather large swig from the bottle, and unrolled the fuzzy parchment.  "We the clan of HammeredByMorning do request an emissary from the clan of the Fartmoodles of the most Southern border.  We are in need of assistance in dealing with a particularly difficult crop of humans. A strange substance is putting our clan in eminent danger."
   Tooty gasped.  The HammeredByMorning's were said to be instrumental in bringing hops to the America's.  The queen offered her uncle the empty goblet.  "Please, no more of this fowl liquid."  Her uncle started pouring it in.
   He lowered himself into a soft patch of cotton near the queen.  "She would be excellent, and you know it Floof."  He pulled another bottle of swill from yet another hidden pocket.  "You saw it.  You and me both.  The way she handled that troll was ingenious.  She has the taste.  She's perfect for this, and it would bridge us to that continent for future generations!"
   The Queen slammed her goblet down and knocked it accross the room. "I'll give up my crown and take her to the land of Maple Fairies before I see those Welshians take her from me."  Tooty decided it was time to announce herself.
She picked up the goblet that had rolled to rest by her feet.
   "Greetings uncle!"  Tooty bounced into the room and into his open arms.  Male's from their bloodline were known for the most exquisite hugs.  "Are you guys drinking Goblin Punch???"
   FunkUnder shoved the bottle into a flap in his vest , and it disappeared.  "Well you are too young for any of that talk missy!" Uncle FunkUnder bowed out of the conversation and moved into a corner to give them some room.  The bottle from his vest magically appeared, and was just as magically emptied.
   Tooty went into a repectful kneel.
   The queen having watched the events of her daughter's day could not help but glow with pride.  Which for FloofMuch was a certain almost visible ultra-violet.  "You did so well today my daughter, I can't imagine how I would have felt if you had to let the troll eat Steve."  Tooty giggled, and then rushed up to her Mother for a hug.
  "Why didn't you tell me you'd be watching?" Tooty pinched her Mom's ear.
  The queen pinched her back.  "Would you really be able to claim that victory for yourself, if you had acted knowing I could interfere at any time to remedy it for you?"
   *** In the mass off cotton and willow dandruff in the corner, the great FunkUnder was pulling out his third bottle of punch.  He was curious how the troll had managed to stockpile so much of it.  The Goblins weren't necessarily given to trade. ***
  The queen cleared her throat and pulled out the scroll Tooty had seen her uncle reading earlier.  "He seems to think you would be perfect for this."  Floof motioned to the inebriated uncle now wondering how exactly he had gotten into such luck to find a blue patch in the willow dandruff he was about to lay his head on.
   "I would miss you terrifically."  Tooty held her mother's hand.
   The Queen didn't think she could glow any more then she already was.  "I will be anticipating your triumphant return to me."
   FunkUnder, was out by the time Tooty and her Mother ironed out the proper supplies and necessary precautions that must be taken with them to survive among the Gremlins.  The queen even handed her the copper goblet she had been drinking from earlier.  "It was a gift from your aunt ThoofUnder."                 
  FunkUnder stirred for a minute in panic then fell back to sleep, mumbling " ... I didn't do it"
  Tooty admired the clearly advanced skill of the goblet while FloofMuch explained. "It will render the Goblin power over that delicious liquid impotent. You could drink one under the table if necessary, but one must account for the needed bladder space."
  Tooty studied it, turning it over in her hands and examining the strange symbols around it's rim. "It's glorious mother, thank you!"  Tooty frowned about the idea she had been having, but decided to go for it.  "Mother, I do have a request."
  The Queen walked over to her uncle, draping him in the blanket nearby.  "Anything you need."
  Tooty hesitated.  "I want Steve to come with me."  The Queen was a little shocked.
  "Do you hate him that much?"  The Queen started planning for two bride's at her daughter's ceremony,  she had rather gotten attached to the idea of an academic in the bloodline.
  Tooty's whole body started to radiate a halo -- the color of sunshine reflected from the fresh spring grass peaking through the melting snow.  "Not at all Mom."

That morning:
  The queen arranged for uncle FunkUnder to deliver and give the news to Steve and his family.  Although an honor to be sent on an expeditionary mission of such magnitude, it was also rare for a Fartmoodle to return home.  His family needed time to plan a departure party, and time to gather their goodbyes.
  The queen was in her chambers with the king, consoling him as he softly cried.
"Dear, honestly.  You should have seen her!  She handled that troll better then any number or quantity your warriors could have."   He straightened himself up and tugged at his vest.
  "You really think she'll be able to handle those TeaTotalers?"  the king was asking with doubts still grasping at his heartstrings.
  "I really do."  The Queen brushed her hands over the tips of his lower wings.  "Do you remember that time in the barn after we ran those trouble making demons from our favorite pub?"
  The king grinned, and started to glow a bit like hot embers. "She'll be fine, lets fluff this mattress a bit."

  When Steve approached Tooty training with the large sewing needles, he was furious. He waited until she was done.  Watching her take on much bigger, and stronger moodles, his anger started to ebb.  She was fierce.  And her trainers were struggling to keep up.
  When she pinned one with her foot, and the other at the tip of her tiny saber, she smiled at Steve with a sweaty brow, and eyes filled with excitement. "You've recieved the news!"   Tooty released her trainers, and helped both of them off the ground with a great effort.  She was exhausted, but she had won.  "I know you probably want nothing to do with this, and for that I'm sorry."
  Steve had been ready to give her a speech about betrayal and the loss of friend-ship, and to resign his services as her teacher.
***When FunkUnder delivered the scroll, he had been too infected with a headache of historical proportions to mention any details other then, "The queen said you are going."  He did not mention it would not be alone.***
  "Wait..."  Steve looked at the royal Stump in the distance being decorated for an elaborate celebration.  "We are both going?"
   "I wouldn't want to go without you."  Steve did not take this as intended, because well, no one would want to go regardless.
   "I suppose I'm honored then."  Steve did a curtsy, and his anger was replaced with a kind of dim appreciation.  "And, I do think I would feel much more protected at your side, then if I had to stay in your mother's presence when you leave."
  Tooty giggled, and beckoned him in for a hug.  It was a tiny bit awkward, but both of them decided it was their new favorite thing.  "I'll keep you safe, and you keep me educated.  We're partners now."
  Steve bent over and picked up one of the discarded plastic skewers. "Well maybe it's time you taught me something."  Tooty looked over at the pink and red fungus's being placed all over the stump.  She would really need to see her father before they departed, and hopefully before the party.
  Tooty found a suitable foam target for Steve to hit.  "Ok, so first thing is ...."
Tooty adjusted Steve's grip, loosening his grasp on the handle.  "Remember the bigger creatures can be startled with just the right stab, in the right place."
  Tooty dragged the giant foam finger into the air onto the platform. It was made from sticks and twigs to hold a posable mannequin hand at just the right angle. But after a few children had taken habit to arranging the fingers in a obnoxious manner, it was moved to storage.
  Tooty pointed the inner rim of the fingernail, where humans are most sensitive to fringe.  "Most humans don't even realize it was us tiny folk that invented hangnails.  I'll show you how."


Wednesday, November 7, 2018

Fartmoodles Chapter3

How to Capture a Fartmoodle
Chapter 3
"It has nothing to do with fresh air"
Edit 1
by: Nellie Tobey

  Garflat's foot alone was twice the length of Steve, and Tooty just stood, fearless, waiting for instruction.  She was intrigued, and curious, and in awe of how large the Troll was.  "Should we just... Introduce ourselves?"
  Steve gulped, flittered his wings, and did nothing.
  Tooty had never seen her professor so frightened.  In fact Tooty couldn't think of a single time he seemed at all scared of anything.  Another great "Ohhh!" and a few sniffles came from the giant mass in front of them. Garflat pulled a giant lace doily from his massive pockets, and no longer crying, started to pick the strawberries gently from their stems and placing them in it.
*** For those curious, I had to google (the lace things grandma's make) to figure out how doily is spelled. ***
  Steve still couldn't move, other then the frantic little shivers in his wings.
  Tooty though, was ready to say hello.  She rose into the air, and glided over to Garflat where he could see her.  He seemed very skilled at plucking the tiny fruit without even so much as a bruise to it's bright red skin.  "Would you like some help sir?"
  Garflat stared at Tooty for a moment, seemed a bit miffed, but then gestured down to the remaining strawberries with a slow wave of his free hand.  Tooty picked up one of the smaller ones and started to gnaw at it's stem. Garflat lay the doily down by her side.
  Steve had finally snapped out of it and with a tiny tremble in his voice made introductions.  "Your graciousness Mister Hummer Garflat, we are from the Fartmoodle clan of your most southern border, and are seeking assistance."
  Garflat wiped an escaped tear from the side of his cheek.  "What is it you need my little horribly smelly friends?"
  Tooty contemplated just how much her education meant to Steve.  He was really really scared. It was an admirable amount of dedication. The next strawberry was a big one.  But Pixies were a lot like ants.  A matter of the proper weight distribution, and a little gravity defiance did a great deal of work for you.
  Steve continued. Growing a bit more confident in his plan, since Hummer Garflat had not, as a lot of the tiny folk myths said, gobbled them in one giant chomp.  "My student is lacking the ability to participate in many of our traditions, and I'm wondering,"

Garflat was nodding in approval of Tooty's gentle handling of his batch.  "You two would make a fabulous stew."
  Steve felt his instincts firing away, telling him to grab her and pop away.
  Tooty, unfazed, lay the last berry into the doily, and in Steve's opinion, completely lost her mind.  "No, no no... You can't mix the strawberries with a meat, it would make it taste rotten!"
  Garflat seemed astonished, and smiled.  "Well no, not with the strawberries of course.  Those are feed for my sick rabbit out back.  I was thinking a big dose of Coriander and some radishes."
  Tooty made a pleading motion, "Coriander!  I've never had that,  and radishes?  What a brilliant combination!"
  Garflat was quietly reminded of another Pixie that had visited him a long time ago, but that pixie was more interested in how humans tasted food, and not at all with how it tastes in the first place.  "I have some in my hut, I could make a smaller stew with your boyfriend here and we could discuss the many uses of radishes."
  Steve froze, and just waited for the world to turn rightside up again.  Boyfriend had not even registered.
  Tooty pretended she was contemplating it.
  ***  Although cannibalism was forbidden among almost all peoples of the region,  She was honestly curious what such a stew would taste like, but preferably not with Steve in it.  ***
  " I really do like my teacher sir.  Maybe we could find an alternative to Pixie flesh....  Maybe...."  Tooty spotted a well shaded and excellently constructed mushroom shed by the troll's hut.  "You don't happen to have Shiitakes in there do you?"
  Garflat folded up the strawberries, staining the doily red just by their presence, and gave her a proud nod.  "They are terribly hard to keep fertilized, what with the lack of naturally decomposing humans to be found in this area."
  Tooty put a hand over her heart, for a Fartmoodle, that was in the lower abdomen, and flew up to Garflat's shoulder as he stood.  "Have you ever tried seasoning them, and frying them until they are crisp in lard?"
  "Well no I haven't, does that help with that terrible texture?"
  "Oh yes, and it brings out ....."
  It took Steve quite a few minutes before he could move himself to follow them.
  When Garflat opened the shed door, it made Steve think of the times as a child his father had taken him on lesson's to the autopsy lab. It was beautiful.  And enough to make him forget Tooty had been ready to discuss him being a component of troll stew.  Surely she was being diplomatic.
  Garflat walked around to his slightly ajar front door.  "Welcome to my home Pixies, do come in and sit with me."
  Steve accepted, "Why thank you, don't mind if we do." His student was already headed in.
   They gathered in the kitchen.  Garflat pulling out a cutting board and some root vegetables, Tooty and Steve standing on the table where he placed it.
   Steve took his cue from Tooty and tried to initiate conversation again."You have a really great home Mr. Garflat!  I'm curious do trolls always live so isolated?"  Hummer grabbed a few glass jars of dried plants, sealed lovingly with a large cork, cloth and twine.
  "Naturally."  Garflat set the jars on the table behind his cutting board. "Do you lot tend to gather all together then?"
  Tooty jumped in now. "We have very mobile villiages, but yes we tend to stay together to ward off any wondering predators.  I hear we are a delicacy to some, especially the WearWolves of HunberBridge."
  Steve was taken aback by Tooty so blatantly lying.  He was learning quickly that Tooty was very skilled at dealing with the outside world creatures.  A skill her mother was also renowned for.  Tooty and Garflat lept into more conversation about ingredients and proper cooking temperatures.
  Tooty and Garflat prepared the ingredients for the stew,  Tooty crushing the peppercorns, and Garflat chopping the radishes.
  Hummer Garflat had offered them a tiny bottle of Gremlin punch that he had been gifted a long time ago.
  *** Gremlins and trolls, although not allies, did get along famously.  Being that trolls had very little alcohol tolerance, and Gremlins tasted foul to trolls when they've had too much to drink***
    Tooty had poured Steve a thimble, but was too busy working with Garflat to make her own.  On his second serving, Steve was now a talking tornado of ideas.  He rambled on about his plan.  " She seems to have a great gift for persuasion in these humans, and I'm wondering if there is a place they gather, that we Fartmoodles don't have documented, to which we could find a way for her to use that in the interest of our peoples."  And then he hiccuped.
*** Hiccuping was known to be a bad omen among Pixies.  A great wise Grand Marshall of Breaking Wind had once predicted the downfall of sauerkraut in traditional dishes once.  He hiccuped, cut cheese, and sneezed in the exact same moment afterwards, and fell over dead. The stores did stop carrying sauerkraut on a regular basis, it was a tragedy.***
  Garflat added something that might be chicken stock to a large cauldron sitting over hot coals in his fireplace.  Might be rabbit stock too, but meat was meat, and it wasn't Steve.
  "Let's have dinner as a gesture of good faith between our two species, and I will think on how I might help."
  Tooty was busy sniffing the dried coriander sitting next to her finely crushed pepper.  "Oh it does smell fantastic, does it have the same aroma in the mouth?"
  The troll interpreting what she meant, gestured to the herb, "Try it, it does lose a bit of that bite when it's stewed, but otherwise, the taste is very definite."
  Steve had heard that word before. "Garflat,  excuse me, but what is that word?"
  The troll, still contemplating if such a stringy pixie would be better smoked with or without an infusion of teriyaki, considered Steve's question.  He tried to remember what that last Pixie so many years had told him.
  "Taste,  the aroma of the tongue, the meaning of life, the reason for the season, the thing that hunger can destroy, or enhance, or make grown troll's weep."
  Steve furrowed his brow.  He did not like it when he could not understand. "Aroma?  You mean you can smell with your mouth?" The effect of the Gremlin punch started to fade.  
  The troll and Tooty exchanged a growing bewildered expression.  "Yes, it's really not a big deal.  Do you mean you can't?"
  *** I might have changed the plan.  Her excellent ability to taste things is going to play a role in this story ***
  Steve was dumbstruck. All this time.... How had no one figured it out? "This 'taste' is what you do all the time with food Tooty?"  Tooty finally had someone that understood, the Troll that is, Steve does not have capable taste-buds.
  "Yes, like all you others and your smelling things, I like to experience with my mouth."   This struck the troll as funny.   He tossed some rhubarb into the pot, giggling.
  Steve paced, and thought.  He was silent for a nice length of time while Tooty and Garflat discussed the many ways to use carrots, without actually having to taste them.  "Even boiling doesn't work, unless you put a large amount of sugar and salt into the water." Tooty explained.
   Garflat did seem impressed.  "Stew is about done, I don't know if I have anything small enough to serve such petite guests with...."
   Tooty inched her way closer to Steve.  He was still deep in thought. He noticed Tooty watching the troll rummaging through a cupboard as she approached.  "I think I know what we can do!"
  Tooty raised a slow hand to her lips to gesture him to be quiet.
  She looped her arm into his and whispered in his ear.
  "He's not looking for dishes."
  Steve raised a long hairy eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
  "We discussed stew quite a bit while you were over here making decisions."
  Steve felt that same fear rushing into him like it had when her first saw the troll.
   Tooty tightened her arm into his.  "Stew is not stew without some heavy  solid protein."
   "and?"  Steve had no clue what all this food talk meant.
   "Mushrooms are protein.  He said it was almost done.... We never even picked the mushrooms."
   Trolls can move rapidly when food is at stake, but luckily Steve's instincts were quicker.
   A fizzle, pop, and this time much more magical smoke then was necessary was left in their spot on the table.  Along with a very sharp cleaver, and seconds later, a sobbing troll named Hummer Garflat.

   ***And the distinct smell of defeat, but that might be the magical smoke. They smelled very similar.***

Sunday, November 4, 2018

Fartmoodles: chapter 2

How to Capture a Fartmoodle
Chapter 2
edit 1
** I apologize in advance for the ramblings of my brain monkeys, but they do like to muse on many things as I write.  If I don't let them contribute, they will most certainly will refuse to let me focus as they contemplate whether a Pixie likes to dance, or whether it prefers to boogie. **
A scholarly troll
by: Nellie Tobey

   Steve had been racking his brain for ages. That is since he first started teaching the Grand Master's daughter.  He wasn't too anxious about impressing the Grand Master, but the Queen was a force that no moodle would like to irritate.  He had to find a way to immerse Tooty.  To get her on board with the rest of the clan in that fine old tradition that made babies smile, and the young giggle all over the world (some of us never grow out of it).
   He had been summoned to the Queen mother's chambers after Tooty had tried to convince a small group at breakfast that shaving the vanilla bean into their mash would greatly improve the day.  It wasn't unknown of for the Queen to banish a moodle as punishment for dishonorable conduct.
*** Three generations ago, a Queen had banished her own wife to a mission among the Maple fairies of the North North America.  The wife had forgotten the queen's birthday for the fifth time in a century.  The air currents in the land of Maple fairies were said to be so fresh, it could make a Fartmoodle dizzy for weeks. ***
   Steve was not sure he knew at all what to say.  He entered the cavernous nook of the largest fallen tree, the rotten and fungus filled doorway decorated the air with a slight decay. He had a plan, but currently all he could focus on was the many ways he might be punished.

  The Queen had been discussing the topic of sushi with the up and coming cadet Maloudorous.  She waved the cadet away.
  Her pearly gaze pierced Steve.
 "My daughter's eyes do not shine with the expected essence of the vaporous quantities yet.  What are you doing to correct this?"
   ***Only the most dedicated to the craft developed that shimmering layer in their eyes, as the queen had.  Some believed the constant exposure up close to the fumes precipitated the change.***

  Steve took a long breath through his nose, capturing the scents he might soon dearly miss, and tried not to sound panicked. "The Yellow Bridge troll may be able to help, he is known for a vast knowledge of the human world, and may be willing to suggest ..."
  The Queen did a sort of half smile, half frown at him. "Those trolls are nothing but trouble.  They'd eat us just as soon as point us in the right direction."
  Steve had expected this. "Your pardon majesty, but the troll I intend on taking her to see is the great Hummer Garflat, one of the most steadfast allies of the Welsian Gremlins.  Surely he would be akin to helping with our dilemma."
*** The Queen could not refuse, unknown to any of the other pixies, she had visited this very Troll a month before her testing as a candidate for queen.  The results had been spectacular.
  Like the Welsian's, A bar was a great place for a warrior to test the skills bestowed upon them in training.  Queen FloofMuch had been able to clear the bar, and the kitchen supply of Buffalo Wings, in one of the most successful campaigns in recorded history.***
   FloofMuch tried to fain amusement at the idea her daughter might go to this very troll. "Very well Steve.  But if Garflat tries to talk either of you into the cookies his sister bakes, Politely refuse and head straight back to the village."

  Steve was not quite sure what a cookie was, but he had gotten permission.  As risky as visiting a troll might be, he had studied. Pouring over every document the Educational Establishment for The Grumble of Butts had, the Troll Hummer Garflat's name was synonymous for articles about the eating habits of humans.
  The Queen picked up a fuzzy caterpillar and started stroking it's bright hairs. "You are dismissed professor."  She was already quite curious what old Garflat would think of her offspring. "Oh, and Steve..."
  He had completed his bow, and was in high spirits before she spoke the next words.  "If I can't at least hear three nominations for my daughter when my time is done as Queen next Solstice, I will be banishing you to live with Hummer Garflat for a week to find out where you went wrong."

  Steve shivered as he exited.  While humans viewed trolls as dirty, stinky, unkempt monsters living under bridges; the truth was, they were clean, tidy, took baths quite regularly, and rarely ate fiber.  Not a single one had ever been known to pass gas in company.   The only reason a troll was known to confront a human was when said human refused to wipe the mud off from their feet before treading across the manicured yard they spent a lifetime maintaining.

  Tooty was actually giddy and excited when Steve told her the plan.  It was going to be a brilliant holiday to get away from the constant onslaught of methane and talk of how to produce it.  And a troll!  One that appreciated a good conversation about something other than the hind end of humans.

***Steve was a far more interested in what information he could glean from Garflat about cows, and livestock in general.  That is until he was threatened with spending a week with him.***

  "It's settled, we'll leave after dinner."  Steve nodded to himself in satisfaction.  At least Tooty seemed enthusiastic.
  A pair of moodles sat down opposite them in the dining patches. Today's soup was Grass, with a bit of Smashed Dung Beetle.  Tooty pulled a small pouch that was hiding in her breasts and began thoroughly dousing the soup.  She took a sip, set the bowl back down and produced a second pouch from a side pocket.

  Steve regarded this behavior as just one of those things that made her interesting.  " I do wish I understood your fascination with trying our spice collection out on yourself."
  Tooty offered him the last sip left in her acorn hollowed bowl.  "I wish you knew what you were missing out on."
  Steve politely refused.  It was pointless, he had tried her mixtures many times, and never really sensed any difference.  "I'll see you after next meal.  I need to go make sure I have Hummer Garflat's address correct in our charts."

  When they fizzled and popped in front of his doorway later that evening, it was much to their surprise that troll was crouched over a particularly well to do batch of strawberries on his lawn. Crying.

Saturday, November 3, 2018

Fartmoodles: Chapter 1

Chapter 1
A life debt
by: Nellie Tobey
Edit 1

Steve, the pixie of the Fumonology clan, who's parents where not at all intrigued with naming their spawn in the Fartmoodle tradition, was seeking Tooty.

His job was to teach.  Tooty was a difficult student. At best she was the worst Fartmoodle at instigating any sort of methane dispersal he had ever known of.
She could usually be found smelling flowers, or searching for spices in the community vault.  Experimenting with spices was an educational pursuit.  On almost all occasions, a Fartmoodle had a duty to try a variety out on the humans.

Broccoli shavings were a huge success.  Chili powder a must have on any expedition.  Tooty had a different way of experimenting that some moodles thought shameful.  She would look over the log books, find failed combinations, or spices, and put it in her morning mash. No one understood this strange ritual, but the Fartmoodles were a very accepting breed, and truly believed, "Unto each their own".

*** But preferably a right nice whiff-er would accompany it. ***

  When Steve found his student, he was not pleased.  She happened to be on the outskirts of their village.  Taking her time outside to smell a flower that most Fartmoodles avoided for fear of ruining their senses for eternity.

*** Imagine a smell that sticks so hard in your memory that any time you even think about it, the olfactory part of the brain goes haywire and will only percieve that memory of that particular smell. ***

Steve stayed well away, and yelled into the tall grasses where he could see a pair of spiky wings fluttering madly in the distance.
   "Oi!"  she might have heard him.
   "O i  !,   Miss Tooty!!  We have a lesson and you are very late!"
   Tooty heard the voice of her young instructor, and took another great sniff of the deep blue blossom--(half the size of her head, and OH so fragrant).  If she were forced to go hunting for human emissions today, at least she could hold on to this one for a small time.
   Steve stood, arms propped on his hips, looking very annoyed. Tooty understood that the others hated the flowers, but why, she could not fathom.
   "We should have left for the human space hours ago!" Steve wanted to grab her arm and run.  The pollen was way too close.
   Tooty smoothed out her long thread bare tunic and cinched her belt tightly for travel.  "Where we going professor?"
   While she despised these lessons, Steve was a good pixie, dedicated and knowledgeable in all things gas related.
   "I am going to introduce you to the super-market" Steve had a slight grin on his face that said he was about to impart a prized secret upon her.
   Tooty nodded her head and looped her arm into his.  "I'm ready."
   With a 'pop' and a 'fizz' and a little bit of waving around of mystical forces, Steve transported them to the nearest grocery.

   They stood, about 13 inches tall, invisible to the humans, on top of the middle freezer of the frozen food isle.
   Tooty was curious. "But they don't eat here, they just buy food.  What is this?"
   Steve beckoned her to follow and fluttered down to the glass door beneath them.   "Do you see what is in there?"
   Tooty was not very good at reading the language yet, but the picture on the packages had food stuffs, wrapped in a bread like blanket, filled with some brown mush. The word she did recognize was 'spicy'.  " Are those....  Burritos?"
   Steve beemed with pride.  While his student had no capability in scent, She was quite a rare connoisseur of edibles.  Useless in most parts of the moodle tradition, but still a skill that he could work with.
   *** Fartmoodles were devoid of real taste buds, and had no need to eat anything that didn't give them  nutritional and energy efficient fuel for the day.  That is, all of them except Tooty.  Which will be discovered much to late in this story to matter. ***

   Steve waited for a human to approach who looked interested in this particular section.  "Follow me."  Steve carefully made his way up to the woman's ear.  "This lesson is about persuasion."  Steve cleared his throat and began yelling quite fiercely into the female's ear.  "THOSE BUrrITOS LOOK MIGHTY GOOD!"
   Tooty watched the woman debating about the contents of the lower shelves.
   Steve brought Tooty in closer.  "You try.  Yell real loud, but do try to enunciate."
   Steve shook his head... that would never work....  But then the human opened the door.  He was in awe, and did not realize that Tooty had jumped out of the way.  He was firmly on the other side of the door watching the giant hand reach in to the plastic wrapped bundles to grab quite a few of the target.
    He smiled up at Tooty, saw the look of horror on her face too late, as he was closed into the frigid temple.
   *** Any container that held Burrito's in such a loving and protective way was deemed a temple.  It was declared in 1942 by the high Foomagate, after a particularly rancorous session of parliament in which many Fartmoodles had campaigned to get a burrito dinner served to the European courts for lunch.***

   Tooty flew to the handle and tried to open the very large, very heavy, and very cold door.  Two were required for the pop fizz travel, and he could not escape on his own.
    Steve remained calm.  He flung his arms up, laid a top the Bean and Cheese, and said a silent prayer to his mothers of old. It was really not a bad place to die.
    Tooty however, was not a pixie that gave up.  She flew widely around screaming into the ears of humans:
  One couple with a small child debated this:
  "Oh man, burrito's sound really good."
  The other rubbed the lower part of it's abdomen, "Not after last night."
  The first one, "I told you to be careful with that wasabi."
  The child pointed at Tooty, and laughed. "That's like the one we had in our house last night!"
  It had to be her cousin Maloudorous.  He was quite in favor of naming Wasabi a tribal treasure, and brought it up at almost every family meeting.
  She had to try something else.
  She headed toward the cheeses screaming, "DON't YOU CCraVE SOMETHING SPICEY!!"
  A young male seemed to have heard her, and was glancing at some pepper jack cheese. It had to work. "THAT wOULD GO GLORIOUSLY WITH A MICROWAVE BURRITO!!!!"
  She had heard of the microwave, a cooking device the humans used, but only knew it was the Most Holy Temple of Modern Warming. She hoped one day to see it in action, but preferably not from the inside. A distant Welshian cousin got blown up by accident in one on his inauguration night.  Whiskey was definitely involved.
  The boy human headed toward Steve's freezer.  She flew as fast as the little wings would allow, to alert Steve to be ready to flee. 

She pounded on the glass, as the male approached. Her instructor, with his eyes clamped shut in prayer to the Mother of Noxious Expulsions, looked up at her in surprise.
   He noticed the hand reaching for the handle and got ready to bolt.  And he did.

   They sat on that dusty freezer top for a long time before Steve reached over to hold Tootie's hand.  "I owe you a life debt.  You have saved me."
  Tooty blushed, as much as a pixie could blush.  While they came in every sort of color imaginable, Tooty had been born a certain kind of violet, that resisted any real definitive aberrance of color differentiation.  Her hair though did glow a slight green.
  "You would have done the same for me..."  She smiled.  This had been her favorite lesson thus far.
  As they sat, a certain older male came through the isle.  He looked around a bit suspiciously and you could hear the slight rumble of a Fartmoodle's favorite thing.
   Tooty's nose crinkled uncontrollably.  Steve took large grand sniffs and smiled with the widest sharp toothed grin any pixie could muster without looking completely insane.
   "That Tooty is your second lesson of the day!"
   She tried not to be rude as she covered the gagging sensation.  "Why the hell is it so bad!"
   Steve frowned, but was not offended by the trouble Tooty had with the most divine odors. "My dear, when the air is cold, and does not circulate well, This is what we call,  'the linger'."  Tooty did seem a bit weakened by it's magnificance.
   And now it was not her favorite lesson, but almost assuredly the most memorable.
   "Let's get back home."  Tooty was eagerly wrapping her arm into his when they popped, fizzed, and whirled away.   

Thursday, November 1, 2018

How to capture a Fartmoodle; Introduction

How to Capture a Fartmoodle
By Nellie Tobey (bearing no Welshian Gremlin ancestry!)
Edit 1

The Pixie in this story is a distant relation to the Welshian Gremlin.
Who are second cousin to the American Fairies of the Colorado Dry season, and third cousin to the pixie's of Maple Falls North North America.

As the Gremlin's do not bare any resemblance to the Fairies, or the Pixies, one could argue there was no relation at all.

But if you were ever at an Irish pub, and the third whiskey you ordered seemed extraordinarily strong, you might argue quite the opposite.

***The Welshian Gremlins were not prone to mess with your first drink - as that is quite rude. If you made it to your sixth drink, a gremlin was considered a roaring success among his peers.And if you happened to fall onto your backside, a special medal of honor was given to that particular warrior.  If you happened to fall on your front, he was nominated as the clan leader.***

The Fartmoodle pixies had a very similar mischief. Fiber was a friend.
Chili beans were sacred. And any human with Lactose intolerance had their name whispered in honorific tones.

The heroine of this story however, lacked a certain, olfactory palette suited to those of her kind.  What smelled especially nice to the rest, was obnoxious to her. 
  Tooty, the daughter of the Grand master of odorous exhibitions, Cheese cutter clan,  was not pleased with the smell produced by any of their antics. So thus our story begins.