Tiny baked goods
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Ooh. OOH! Guess what? Guess what?! Like many of you, I am in the dark as to the technical aspect of this whole book thing. When it comes to stuff like that, I have not the brain.
So imagine my surprise when I went to hazeltwigg.com to see if there was anything new – and I spied something.
A chink! A chink in the blackboard!!
And being only human, I peeked! And this is what I saw:
Turns out, things aren’t as technical as I thought. Elves. ELVES!!! There are elves building the website!
I could not help myself. I cried out, “A-HAH!”
And they saw me.
Now, I don’t care how big you are, or how little elves are, when a hundred or so of the creatures come charging at you, you get Scared. Fortunately for me, it takes a long time for those little legs to get any distance. Thinking quickly and luckily wearing black (those of you who know me know that there’s no “luck” about it. I ALWAYS wear black.) I thrust my shoulder against the hole, concealing it completely. I could hear their frustrated cries.
“Where’d the hole go?” “Where’s the hole?” their high-pitched voices shouted. “We have been BREACHED! Halt! Halt the labor!”
This would not do. I needed those elves to be on my side. Hickory Fig & the Twiggly Poos, I could just imagine their revenge. Needing to act fast, I ripped out a chunk of my already shabby black t-shirt and stuffed it into the hole. And I got to work.
Knowing that elves like baked goods* and being quite the baker myself, it wasn’t long before I was once more standing before the compromised blackboard, my peace offering in my hands. Taking a deep breath, I removed the tattered black rag from the hole.
Instantly, I heard their cries again. They had apparently posted little watch elves to man the back of the blackboard and so were ready and waiting. I quickly thrust my offering (which barely fit, but it did) through the hole.
For a moment there was near silence as the elves surprisingly and politely passed the little box around. Especially when they saw that there were more boxes to come (I baked extra, just to be sure).
After the dozenth box I put my eye to the hole again and begged, “Can I please watch what you’re doing?”
The elves, their little bellies little no more, regretfully shook their heads. “Now, Ruth,” an elf with black hair and a red beard said (he must have recognized my eye!), “You know that we elves can only work in secret, and only when no one is watching. So I’m sorry and thank you for the donuts, but we’re going to have to patch up that hole.”
Even as the words came out of his mouth, two belching elves (it smelled like donuts, thankfully!) had climbed atop tall ladders and with bright green paint they were marking the hole to be repaired, lest they lose the spot again, I figured. Through the crowd beyond I saw a huge bolt of black fabric being passed forward, that surprisingly got smaller as it got closer. By the time it made its way up the ladder, I could see it was just large enough to cover the hole.
“WAIT!” I cried as those industrious elves got to work, gluing and stapling. “Can’t you at least tell me when you might be finished?”
Through the tiny corner that hadn’t yet been sealed I could hear a high-pitched murmuring. It suddenly stopped. A small mouth appeared, white powdered sugar still visible all around it, and said, “Next week. We hope. Barring interruptions,” the sticky mouth said pointedly. And then, zip! The rest of the hole was sealed.
So. Next week. I’ll be good, I promise. Because when the website is completed, that’s when finally, finally, the first chapters will be released. Free. And we can see if this dog will hunt. Of course it will! As sure as elves like baked goods (that is my hope!).