“Chainsaws & Munchkins,” by J. Michael Dashiell

Apr 20th, 2008 | By | Category: Prose

Daleville was reeling. After a freak tornado passed through, an astonishing anomaly occurred when it deposited of what appeared to be a community of legendary Munchkins. It seemed this incident amounted to The Wizard of Oz in reverse: Instead of a twister capturing a farm girl and transporting her to Oz, a tornado that originated somewhere over the rainbow brought these curious people with its passing. They numbered in the hundreds and were eating the local gardens and sweet shops empty, even stealing whatever they needed because they had no word or concept for payment or money. A trio of Munchkins who claimed they represented the Lollipop Guild even entered the mayor’s office, and did a little song and dance soliciting candy. Mayor Clyde Fleming found them disturbing rather than cute, and wanted a swift solution to this bizarre problem.

The only security this small rural town enjoyed was a lone town marshal who was either lax or drunk. To make things hopeless Marshal Earl Sanders found himself popular with these little people and delighted in their company, but the Mayor only regarded them as a public nuisance. He knew this town could not support their livelihood. He even contacted other agencies including the county sheriff’s office and state police, but of course they both thought he was crazy. They claimed they couldn’t possibly be Munchkins but were likely only a troupe of midget actors out to promote one of their plays. Mayor Fleming implored this was not the case, but they declared midgets entering any community created no specific crime or misdemeanor such that no law enforcement was justified. They insisted Daleville’s marshal could handle the problem. Why be afraid of an influx of harmless midgets?

That’s why the Mayor turned to his friend and fix-it man, Big Sam Miller. Sam stood a giant of a man inventive and practical enough to solve about any problem. Of course, Sam had seen the Munchkin invasion and didn’t like it as well. He said he’d address the problem at a community meeting in the town hall. He had already devised a plan.

About sixty of the locals attempted to attend this meeting, but there was only seating capacity for thirty, such that the hall filled to capacity. People were talking and complaining when the mayor went to his podium and addressed the situation. He promptly introduced Sam, looking formidable in his bibbed overhauls and barrel-chest with a chainsaw in his hand. The spectacle of this violent power tool created some alarm.

However, Sam stood prominently and sure and said, “My fellow citizens, the mayor has asked my help in solving this Munchkin infestation that Daleville has suffered over the past couple of weeks. I agree the emergence of these little people has created a pest problem in need of control as surely as if they were rats or mice.”

People murmured. Was Sam implying that Munchkins amounted to mere rodents?

Sam continued, “I searched the books and found no scientific evidence that claims Munchkins are human beings or a species of Homo Sapiens that would grant them protection under the law. We have no determination that Munchkins have any rights or privileges. In fact, as you might have supposed, they’re not even recognized as a legitimate species! As far as I’m concerned, they’re only alien creatures from an alien realm, not within the United States or even the entire planet, that would render them protection of any kind. In respect to the interests of Daleville, they only amount to the status of pests, and should be treated accordingly.”

More people murmured though Sam was making his point.

“That’s why I offer this town a pat solution. For the past few days, I’ve whittled out a viable flute and have devised a catchy tune sure to capture their interest. Like the Pied Piper of Hamelin, I pledge to draw the entire colony of Munchkins out of Daleville and into my country acreage located just outside of town. There they’ll remain for a maximum of ten days until my ransom of one million dollars is paid in full and at this juncture, I’ll begin mass slaughter of these little creatures with this little baby I now have in my hand!”

Alarm spread through the entire town hall. Sam turned on his chainsaw for a demonstration, and proceeded to saw the podium in half into streaking meteors chips and sawdust.

“It comes equipped with special bone shattering and flesh ripping features, courtesy of the Mob, that will make the Munchkin extermination complete!”

At this point, the podium collapsed into two distinct pieces.

The Mayor cried, “Sam, that was my podium!”

Sam nodded his head and said, “Now you have two…But if my ransom amount isn’t paid within the allotted time, I’ll have no choice but to return these critters unharmed back to town where the entire community will have to deal with them again. It’ll again turn Daleville back into a virtual Munchkin Land. This concludes my offer!”

The Mayor cried, “But Sam, Daleville doesn’t have one million dollars in funds available!”

Sam said, “Okay, half a million!”

The Mayor complained again.

Sam said decisively, “One hundred thousand dollars, and all local gambling debts owed me paid plus my liquor bill at Sherman’s and bar tabs at Jimmy’s and Rowdy’s taverns as well. That’s my final offer!”

The Mayor reluctantly agreed. Though the citizens in attendance thought the solution was barbaric they wanted this problem fixed as well. After all, there was no scientific evidence or confirmation that Munchkins were even human. Within a couple of days Sam had a jester’s cap and a motley suit of clothes sure to attract any Munchkin. He stood within the center of town, a lone street with businesses and residences on either side, and proceeded to play his flute. The locals of Daleville recognized the song as Follow the Yellow Brick Road, and sure enough Munchkins began to gather and follow Big Sam Miller out of town as he lightly skipped towards his rural property. When he had them all herded within a barbed-wire fence that surrounded his thirteen acres, the residents breathed a sigh of relief though a few still found them adorable and missed their company and entertainment. Meanwhile, the Mayor scrambled to make deals and to collect personal contributions and loans to pay Sam’s ransom demand.

Sam discovered that his Munchkin community was afraid of the campfire he’d started. They cried out that a wicked witch was about to appear. Thus he felt that the threat of fire gave him a measure of control. As he cooked his meals, the Munchkins picked fruit off trees and ate berries and wildflower blooms. They even played mindless, incomprehensible games Sam thought were stupid. They didn’t sleep either but sang songs all night as though to ward off evil. For Sam, their singing made soothing lullabies. Several times a day a few of them approached him in a group, claiming they represented a particular guild, and politely made a request of him. Sam had even developed a fancy for one ballerina who represented the “Lori-ly-lee.” But he minded his own business, and scolded them when they got on his nerves. Often when he said something they found funny or strange, he was obliged to hear their familiar giggle of “Hee, Hee, Hee, Hee, Hee!” At least they represented no danger or resistance and would succumb easily to his trusty chainsaw. Their bodies would likely make good fertilizer.

Three days passed and no ransom was paid. Sam believed Clyde would manage to get the money even if he had to resort to his old shenanigans. He didn’t particularly relish the thought of slaughtering these little creatures, so utterly innocent and vulnerable, but it was business. Sam regarded them as any rabbit or deer he hunted in the wild fit to kill without sentiment. Another four days passed, and Sam grew restless. He attempted to fall asleep, but was interrupted by a Munchkin handing him a curious rock. Sam examined it in his kerosene lamplight. Perhaps it was more than curious?

“Where’d you get this?” Sam asked exiting his sleeping-bag and standing up.

A few of them led him down a path they’d made, through some oak trees, and down a ravine, and at the bottom of it, gaping like the mouth of a whale, Sam discovered a burrow-like cave he never knew existed. He crawled inside and searched about. Yes, this wasn’t just a random piece of rock they’d found, it might be what he suspected. The entire walls of the cave were lined with it! Soon the sun rose, and Sam used a hammer and chisel to extract a few pieces of ore and examined them further in the bright morning light as the Munchkins played a game of jumping over a tall blade of grass. Sam called them over to his campsite.

Still looking odd in his medieval clothes, Sam said, “Okay, I don’t need the ransom money after all! Whatever your species or kind is, your lives have been spared. What you’ve all discovered is a bonanza of sapphire ore! It’s likely worth more than my ransom demand even several times over! You’ve proved you’re good for something after all.”

Sam fetched his chainsaw, fired it up and lifted it in the air. “So, I don’t need you anymore. Get your little butts back to town!”

“Hee, Hee, Hee, Hee, Hee!”

So, unharmed the Munchkins returned to Daleville. They eventually became more accepted into the community. With a little help they built themselves little houses and planted lavish gardens. They eventually built their own independent neighborhoods where they procreated like rats. Visitors from around the nation and even the world visited Daleville to view the Munchkin phenomenon. Their singing and dancing talents eventually led to paid performances. However, a few residents of Daleville, including Mayor Fleming, still saw the Munchkins as a nuisance even though Congress enacted a law to protect them. They popped their little heads up everywhere, they blocked traffic, they sang all the time, and continued to solicit as representatives of their individual guilds. One even had the audacity to run for mayor of Daleville, the royally dressed fat one who’d been the former mayor of Munchkin City. From Mayor Fleming’s perspective, it’d been better for Daleville if they’d taken the saw.

————

J. Michael Dashiell (Mike) has written 95 short stories, 10 essays and 994 jokes. When he began to attend college to help his writing career, he abruptly quit because no smoking was allowed, and he became too confused without a bartender nearby. Hey, he had to draw the line somewhere, didn’t he?

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