Lord of the Rinds
Chapter 1: Fellows to Dinner
There was once an
out of the way place, now lost to history, which was known as the
Fryer. Why it was called the Fryer I do not know, but it was
populated by a short people, the Habbits, who generally belonged to
one of three categories: Good Habbits, who were taller and fairer;
Bad Habbits, who were shorter, darker and hairier, and Quirks; who
were mostly harmless if a bit odd. In this land of Habbits there was
a particularly wealthy Habbit, Begel Bagpipes, who lived at 666
Bagpipe Lane, the Fryer. Begel was a strange sort, being an equal
mixture of Good Habbit and Quirk. He had, in his younger, fresher
days been on an adventure. No Habbit in the Fryer had ever been on
an adventure, and none ever wanted to. Habbits liked to do the same
things every day. But Begel was different. he had been abducted by
aliens many years earlier and had somehow brought back an expensive
set of Bagpipes when he returned, and had his name changed to
Bagpipes. He was quite talkative too, which probably accounted for
the name change.
He was now nearing his expiration date, and
was going to throw a huge expiration date party for himself. He
invited nearly everyone in the Fryer, and everyone had a good time
until Begel started to insult them all by playing his antique
bagpipes, which the Good Habbits of the Fryer could not figure out.
They seemed to be playing good and bad notes at the same time, and
were hurting their ears. At last he quit, and disappeared from them.
This was quite a trick, and they did not like it. It was different,
uncanny, said some. Totally unlike a Habbit, said others.
Begel went back to his rather spacious home. It was built
under a large hill, to keep it cool and himself well preserved for a
long time. Begel's head was a little fried from his contact with the
aliens. He kept in his pocket an old orange rind, which he said had
sentimental value. He would occasionally pull it out, and look at
it. He liked to look at it. It would sometimes turn green, and
fuzzy, then powdery and black, and sometimes it turned hard and dark
orange. When it was green and fuzzy he would sniff it, even though
he knew it was bad for him.
Begel intended to go back to the
Aylves, who were tall and blonde and fair, and glowed. 'They glow so
pretty,' he thought. 'I would very much like to see them before I
expire.'
Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Wondering
who it was, but fearing it may be his bothersome mean relations, he
hesitantly opened the door. It was Gandriel (see note 1), the elf
witch. Begel was so excited! She was coming to take him to the
aliens!!
Gandriel was a strange being. Part wizard, part
elf, she was very incarnation of feminism. She wore her beard
proudly, and yet no one noticed it and she was still proclaimed the
most beautiful elf in the lands of Middle Earth. She said to Begel:
"Begel, I smell something. You haven't still got that horrid rind,
have you? (for she had visited him on occasion over the years, and
always pestered him about his moldy rind) You should really toss
that thing as soon as possible, and not keep it any longer. It
really should be destroyed. But I know you are terribly addicted to
it. Therefore let Frydough have it and be on your merry way. I will
not escort you to the land of elves if you do not leave it behind,
for it has a foulsome odour and will attract roaches in the sacred
houses."
These words struck Begel with force. He had grown
fond of his rind, even though it was quite pungent, it was something
he was accustomed to and shall we even say addicted to. Habbits will
be Habbits. Yet the Quirk in him finally won out, and he laid it
carefully on the table for Frydough, who wouldn't be home for hours.
Gandriel quickly escorted him out the door before he could change
his mind, and waving her magic wand transported him magickally to
the land of the elves, where he had dreamed of being. The land of
the elves was quite cool, and would preserve his shelf-life for many
days to come, and he would rest easy. Gandriel stayed behind to see
that the rind was properly disposed of. Many hours passed, and
Frydough finally staggered home. He was part Bad Habbit, and always
stayed out late, stumbling home near dawn. Stumbling, because his
head was so large and his fair feet (for he was part Good Habbit) so
small that he was perpetually off balance and stumbling about. Into
Bagpipe End he staggered, and did not notice the good witch Gandriel
sitting in the parlour by the fire. 'Frydough,' he heard, and looked
sleepily into the parlour.
"Gandriel!" he cried. It had been
so long since he'd seen her, and yet was especially fond of her,
being the Habbit of forward thinking that he was. He stumbled up to
her and gave her a hug. 'What is that smell?' he thought to himself.
Yet he said nothing, since Gandriel did not believe in soap, and
never brushed her hair. 'Patchouli' he thought. 'It's gotta be
Patchouli.'
"Frydough, your uncle Begel has left the Fryer
for cooler lands. He's gone to stay with the elves until the end of
his shelf-life, and it will be a while yet. He has left Bagpipe End,
and left everything to you, including his bagpipes. He has also left
you his most prized possession, which I would see destroyed. Do you
see that fuzz on yon table? Frydough looked in that direction, and
was repulsed by the green blob on the table. 'So that's what smells
so bad,' he thought. He wrinkled his nose. "What is that?"' he asked
in disgust.
"That is an old orange rind your uncle picked up
from the corner of an elves' kitchen. I have no idea why he did it,
except it must be the Quirk in him. He has kept it all these years
in secret. It's very hazardous, and must now be destroyed."
"I'm not touching that thing," said Frydough.
"You
must," said Gandriel. "No one else can be expected to do it. It was
very hard to pry it from your uncle, but he has left it now and it
has saved his life. If you do not clean it up, it will stink up all
of Bagpipe End and eventually the whole Fryer. It will attract bugs,
and they will invade and ruin everything. You must do this for the
Fryer, Frydough."
"Fine, then I will hire someone to bury
it, and no one or nothing will ever know it's here. Will they
Gandriel?"
Gandriel looked at him. "Unfortunately I spied an
ant leaving as I arrived. No doubt he was a scout, and in a short
time he will be bringing his fellow ants back here and they will
devour all the Fryer if this isn't removed. You must take this rind
far away from here, to the land of Moldour, and there throw it into
the already stinking depths of Moldour's disposal system."
Frydough sighed. His days of warming himself in the hood
were over. He would have to leave the Fryer, and make his way to
strange lands in order to destroy this awful thing his uncle had so
courteously left him.
"I must go and attend to some business
now, but I will meet you in the village of Bread, east of the
Fryer." Just then a strange sound was heard in the kitchen. Gandriel
grabbed her wand and ran into the kitchen, where Samwich Yamjam had
jumped out of the refrigerator, and was standing right behind the
wall to the parlour.
"Samwich Yamjam!!!" cried Gandriel,
grabbing Samwich and throwing him onto the table. "What were you
doing outside of the fridge? Speak, before I turn you into a
Hoagie!"
"No, please don't turn me into a Hoagie! I didn't
hear anything, nothing at all! I was just getting a little mayo,
that's all!"
disclaimer: Harry Potter characters
and world owned by J.K. Rowling. This is for entertainment purposes
only.:)
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