The Muffin Man's Brother
A prequel to Candy Land!
Hey, stranger! Welcome to our little town of Small Ville, New York! Right here in fine 'ole U.S.A. You must’ve come hear to see the Muffin man, right? No? Have you even heard of the Muffin Man? The one who lives on Drury Lane? You DON’T? Well the Muffin Man is one of the most famous bakers in town. Now do you remember? No? Oh my, well I’ll tell you the story then! It all started in a little cottage in Germany, a long, long time ago…
The cottage was nestled in the Frigid Alps, which is especially frigid in the wintertime, in which the beginning of this story takes place. Muffin and his family stayed in the house all winter doing what they loved best, baking. Їvinheim, the father of the family, was mixing the batter for a wonderful chocolate moose filled muffin.
“Momma, are we be a making muffins?” said Muffin, the ever-inquisitive young youth.
His loving mother Ũlnaa replied, “ Why yes dear. Would you and your brother like to mix the batter?”
Muffin nodded vigorously, while his older brother Bäakeerin (Baker for short) merely shrugged, “ You can go first, Muff.” He said.
Muffin hopped up on a wooden stool so he could reach the counter. He grabbed his spoon and began mixing. As soon as the spoon reached the bowl of chocolate moose mix a marvelous smell spread through the cottage. When the little child began stirring, the mixture seemed to come alive, churning with beautiful excellence.
Ũlnaa hopped up and down with joy at the smell of the muffins. Being rather large, this caused a cup of fresh buffalo chips1 to spill all over Baker. Enraged by this Baker rushed over to his brother and ripped the spoon roughly from the pudgy youth’s hands.
“Lemme try, it’s my turn! I bet you anything that it will smell just as vündersňeek2 when I use the magic spoon on the mix!” Baker yelled.
1: Dry buffalo poop, used as a coal for fires in the olden times 2: Wonderful in German
Їvinheim laughed a loud German, fat laugh, “ It be only a wee spoon, Bäakeerin! It’s only magic if the user loves to bake. See,
have a go at it!”
So Baker put the spoon in the mix and began stirring while muttering, “ You’ll see…”
But instead of the lovely smell made by Muffin, a horribly vile disgusting smell greeted the family’s noses. They’re poor husky Poomsie, (having an ultra sensitive nose) began whining unpleasantly.
Baker laughed, “ See! Doesn’t it smell vündersňeek?”
Muffin talked through tears from the horrible stench, “ How in the great Billy goat up in the sky can you think that smells vündersňeek?”
Baker sneered, “ You’re just jealous because I’m a better cook than you, this smells vündersňeek!”
Їvinheim walked up to his oldest son, “There is no honor in cooking when cooking just to showoff, son. Accept failure and move on. Baking just isn’t your thing. Your more of the outdoorsy type!”
Їvinheim was right about one thing: Baker was much more happy when showing off his skiing skills to the girls in the near by town than baking for the love of having others enjoy his food.
But Їvinheim was also wrong about one thing to: The spoon was magic.Very, very magic, you see a couple of winters back Baker was trying to tackle poor little Muffin in a snow fight. Muffin ran and hid inside in an oak tree hallow. What Muffin found inside was the very spoon he uses to bake. But the magic in the spoon is not to be taken lightly, for if the user has icky imagination fueling the spoon the food made with it will indeed be evil…
The begining is slow, but than the Nazi army comes...