Category Archives: Short Stories

Muddypelt and the Three Humans

Muddypelt and the Three Humans

By the Amazing, High and Mighty Sarah

Once upon a time, long ago, right in the middle of a huge expanse of trees, there lived a family of three people: a father, a mother, and a little boy. The mother loved to cook more than anything, but she had some trouble with her timing. She would often leave supper in the oven too long, and it would come out burnt, or even undercooked. This made the father very irritable, and gave the boy an excuse not to eat his dinner and go straight to dessert. Everyone knows that only eating sweets is very bad for you, and though the boy didn’t know it, his fondness for chocolate was bound to give him oral plaque buildup or high blood sugar. Now, the mother couldn’t just stand by and watch this happen! I mean, who would want an irritable husband? Not her! So she vowed to perfect her timing. And what better food to practice on than meatloaf? Everyone hated its heat-susceptible meat, so she figured she would feed her family the half-baked results of this test, and when she had mastered the art of cooking they would all sit down to a nice meal of perfectly cooked spam. Of the two meats stored in the house, the family liked spam more, so better to exhaust the meatloaf reserves first.

So the mother set to work. Day in, day out, she could be found in the kitchen fussing over a slab of meat loaf. First one would be too burnt, or red in the middle. Sometimes the mother got so nervous that she would overcook the meat that she took it out of the oven when it was still raw. The nausious fumes drove the father and boy from the house most days.

However, as every good little girl and gent knows, peoples’ opinions on foods and their odors vary. One of the rare animals that is immune to meatloaf, a brown bear, was waddling about the woods one day near to the meatloaf-infested house. This was a young bear, with silken, mud-colored fur, and shining eyes the color of the amber that prehistoric insects are preserved in. The bear’s name was Muddypelt. She was really a lovely young bear, who was kind to all her fellow bears. She even had a peculiar fondness for humans and their strange delicacies. So this bear was ambling around, digging for grubs or observing butterflies or whatever it is bears do, and she smelled meatloaf on the breeze. Following the odiferous odor, she was lead to a small, somewhat rickety household. The scrumptious smell wafted deliciously out from under the door, making Muddypelt want to faint with delight. Here was a meal fit for a bear like her! So while the mother left the house to go to the Meatloaf Depot (she was running low), Muddypelt quietly trampled through the door.

The first thing Muddypelt noticed was the heaps of badly cooked meatloaf piled on the table. She went straight to them, scarfing down the raw chunks, inhaling the burnt sections. Soon the piles were half depleted. But alas, Muddypelt’s feasting was cut uncomfortably short as she heard the mother’s swift footsteps returning from the Meatloaf Depot. With a gasp (which sounded like a hack owing to the quantity of meatloaf still residing in Muddypelt’s mouth), the bear leapt into action! She crept back through the house, doing a ninja roll around the corner. Soon she came to a back door, which she crashed quietly through. She then retreated into the cover of the woods.

The mother (whose name shall never be revealed, in case you were wondering) came through the front door, cheerfully whistling an upbeat tune. She carried a stack of meatloaves in her arms, and she dropped them all very suddenly when she saw the significantly smaller pile of previous meaty failures on the table. “Why!” she exclaimed loudly. “It looks like a young bear has been eating my meatloaf, even though there is no way to tell that it is indeed a bear and not a forest walrus!” She rushed over and counted the remaining loaves. “Goodness me, there are eighteen missing! What ever shall I do? My dear husband will have to go without the recommended thirty-six loaves of meat to get the full nutritional value of one square inch of spam! What ever shall I do?” In distress, the mother scurried to pick up the fresh loaves she had dropped, placing them on the table next to the old ones. “I must hurry and finish these, so I may give my dear husband nutrition! I can eat one or two loaves, and that’s all we need.” She quickly half-cooked the last meatloaves.

Barely a nanosecond after the mother yanked the last loaf from the oven, the father and son came tramping through the door. “Hello, Wife,” the father said loudly. “Dinner is ready, I take it?”

The fantastical mother/wife combo nodded hurriedly. “Oh, yes dear!” She quickly set down a plate of meatloaf in front of him.

“Not this blasted stuff again!” the father said.

“Terribly sorry, dear,” the mother said, “This should be the last batch.”

“Good riddance,” the father grumbled haughtily.

Through this short monologue, the son sat quietly in his chair, snatching pieces of meatloaf from his father’s plate, as his mother had neglected to give him one of his own. “Mother,” he spoke up, “may I have a plate?”

The mother blinked, and then smiled. “Of course you may, dear!” she said genially. She then proceeded to set an empty plate down in front of the boy.

The boy sighed resignedly and sat back in his chair.

Meanwhile, out in the woods, Muddypelt was wandering around, content after the quantity of meatloaf, but still craving more. She made up her mind to return to the yummy-food-house the next day.

This sentence shall be solely devoted to a magic time lapse, which only fairy tales or kids shows with suns and moons that switch places way too fast can pull off.

The next morning, while the father and son were out again, the mother found the last three meatloaves left over in the meatloaf cabinet. Knowing she had to perfect her technique with these last three, she carefully prepared the meatloaf oven and slid the first loaf in. Panicking, she took it out too early. The second time, she became paranoid about taking it out too early and thus took it out too late. It was the previous day all over again.

Looking dejectedly down at the last raw loaf, the mother knew it was her last chance. With shaking hands and baited breath, she slid the very last loaf onto the top rack in the meatloaf oven.

Just then, there was a crash outside the house. Startled, the mother rushed out the door to see what had happened. She then noticed a rustling noise rushing away from the house. The rustling noise was accompanied by the terrifying screams of the son. Fearing the worst, the mother quickly followed the noise.

Earlier that day, Muddypelt had realized that the only way to get more of that meatloaf was to get the mother away from the house. She had searched around the forest until she found a pair of vacationing lemurs from the Amazon. She employed them to weave her a long string of grass. The lemurs promised to get to work, happy to have something to do as the forest was not as exciting as the travel guide had said.

Continuing through the trees, Muddypelt came upon a pair of birds. She asked their help with a trick she wanted to play on the son, and once she promised she would help them dig for worms, they agreed. Finally Muddypelt reached the river that ran through the forest. Usually she stayed away from the main body of the river, as it was polluted with human junk, but now she dunked a claw in the water and came up with two tin cans.

Taking the cans, Muddypelt charged back to the lemurs. As it turned out, they had been employed in a weaving factory back in the Amazon and had successfully weaved a mile of string from the grass on the forest floor. Muddypelt had them tie a can to each end of the string. Then it was time for the most dangerous phase of the plan.

Hurrying through the trees with the lemurs at her heels, Muddypelt came as close to the house as she dared. One lemur took a can and ran out to where the father and boy were fishing at a pond. When there was a small tug on the other end of the string, Muddypelt knew it was time.

Nodding to the remaining lemur, Muddypelt scrambled up a sturdy-looking tree and jumped down onto a pile of firewood, making a tremendous crash. Heart pounding, she then dashed behind the house to hide. She heard the mother run out of the house, and the remaining lemur thrashed around, making a rustling sound, making her way toward the pond. The lemur brought the can along with her.

Down at the pond, the two birds Muddypelt had hired had found a spider and dropped it on the boy’s head, causing him to scream right into the can that one lemur had left by him. Even though in our world if you have a string with cans on the end, you have to pull the string tight to get sound to carry through to the other can, this was not our world and therefore the string could be loose and the son’s screams carried down to the house.

Just as the mother set off into the undergrowth to follow the lemur, Muddypelt dashed through the open door. On the table were two loaves, which Muddypelt presumed were for the mother and father, since she had heard the old bearytales telling of a girl eating the Papa and Mama bears’ porridge. Muddypelt first nibbled on the edge of a darker meatloaf. “Ooh!” She quoted, “Much too hot!” Feeling proud of herself for remembering lines from the stories her mother used to tell, Muddypelt proceded to nibble on the second meatloaf. “Hmm, much too cold.” She then noticed a third meatloaf still in the meatloaf oven. Flipping down the oven door with her dexterous paw, Muddypelt tugged out the loaf and swallowed it whole. “Mmm! Just right!”

Back by the pond, the mother had come stumbling back only to see her son stomping on a helpless spider. After asking what had happened, the mother came to a conclusion; “That bear – or forest walrus – that ate my meatloaf must have played a very elaborate trick on us and is now eating the last meatloaves and quoting old tales!” The father and son agreed. “Well, in that case, let us just stay out here until it is safe to go back,” the mother proposed. The father nodded his agreement, and the son verbalized his. So the small family stayed out by the pond while Muddypelt finished off the meatloaf. The mother never did figure out that she had timed the last meatloaf perfectly, but no matter, she was a much better spam cook. Muddypelt came through on her promise to the birds, and soon word of her worm-digging skills had spread and she had decided to go into business digging worms for hungry birds, in return for new human food.

And it goes without saying that they all lived happily ever after.

Disclaimer: All events in the preceding story are hereby officially and on the record declared false. Any resemblance to person or persons who are indeed real and alive is unintentional by the author and should be dismissed as a coincidence. No meatloaf was devoured in the writing of this story, and of course there are no bears in the worm-digging business in a grove of trees, so there’s no reason to mention it to your local birds as Muddypelt is kind of swamped with orders at the moment. Thank you.



Behold, an upload! *le gasp!*

Yeah, sorry I’ve been AWOL for a while. I’ve got this weird rash/hives thing on my feet/knees/elbows/hands that itches like crazy and is really annoying. I feel like if I use my tablet I’ll leave behind whatever virus is causing it and I’ll get it again later Dx And also, I’m just sorta art blocked. So no art for a bit.
But I can upload writing (sorry for not working on TWS, I’m re-working the plot and it takes a long time). This is my fractured fairy-tale from last year. It was super fun to write 😀 If you can’t tell it’s a spin on Goldilocks and the Three Bears. For the most part it’s got nothing to do with the actual fairy-tale, I just rambled about meatloaf for most of the story, but I like it c:
And I know Muddypelt could be a warrior cat’s name, I tried staying away from that but there wasn’t any way around it ’cause I wanted it to correspond with Goldilocks’ name. Get it? Gold locks, versus brown fur. Get it…? Okay, anyway.
Critique is welcome 🙂

Also, holycrapthissongissoawesome.

Preview picture is here: [link]

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Posted by on August 16, 2012 in Miscellaneous, Short Stories