Lost Time Incident

February 14, 2003

Eviction Notice

We kept telling him that he would make a great wrestler and entertainer with some traveling circus, but Pinecone just wasn't interested. All he wanted to do, he said, was spend every day eating our children and sleeping.

"Look," I told him, because the village had elected me to lead a party to talk to Pinecone, "we do our best to live a life in harmony with nature. Every insect that wanders into our homes is gently escorted out again. Every broken-winged bird we find, we attend to and set free. The only meat we eat is that of the free-roaming boar, but they're just asking for it, busting down our fences and making horrible noises at our womenfolk."

"Uh huh," said Pinecone.

He was reclining against an enormous tree that had a diameter that would have required eight men holding hands to form a ring around it. Why we would make a ring around it escapes me, but that's the clearest measurement I can give you without any instruments with me. And we went to talk to Pinecone unarmed, so as not to alarm him.

"And so we respect the fact that you're a giant and that one of your preferred, ah, foods is, ah, us. Humans."

"Uh huh," said Pinecone.

I noticed, once I got up the nerve to look up at Pinecone's face that he had tucked into his shirt pocket a giant-sized handkerchief. It had the same color and pattern of material as the dress Kelly's girl was wearing when she disappeared. I was pretty sure that wasn't a coincidence, so my eyes dropped again. My hands were in my pockets and with my right hand I kept nervously fiddling with the chunk of flint I kept there.

"But we've got a problem."

The entire forest was quiet around us, all sensible animals having left the area when Pinecone sat down. It was so quiet I could practically hear the sweat sliding down the faces of my fellow committee members, Olf the elderly candle-maker and Brik the young idiot.

"And our problem is this... you don't seem to migrate in the same way your fellows do. We're used to accepting, as a matter of course, that at least twice a year some giants will come through the village and eat some people. It happens and we adjust. But Pinecone--"

He snorted.

"--you don't seem to be moving on. In fact, you've been in this valley for a month and have eaten, to date, sixteen members of our village. The Polters no longer have any children. The Amsels have only one infant remaining and no one left to help them farm. Quite frankly, Pinecone, your staying here is a disaster, as far as we're concerned."

"Uh huh," said Pinecone.

"What do we taste like?" asked Brik. Ah, I thought. So the cause of Brik's pained expression over the last ten minutes was a question, a tiny thought struggling to be born. I had thought that perhaps he had eaten something poisonous. No such luck.

"You really wanna know?" asked Pinecone.

"I think so," said Brik.

"I got some extra in my pocket if you wanna try some," offered Pinecone, reaching into his tattered shorts.

"If we can stay on topic," I interrupted. "What we were hoping was that you could tell us why you haven't left and, if you could, what might prompt you to leave."

A horrible smile opened up Pinecone's face. Giants have bigger mouths than people. That may sound obvious, but I mean the mouths are bigger even if you take body ratios into account. Giant mouths go up well into the cheeks, towards their filth-encrusted ears.

"I might leave," Pinecone said, "if you ran out of children. Or... if there was some sort of ecological disaster so's I'd have trouble sleeping. But I don't see any of those happening any time soon."

Olf feebly tapped me on the shoulder and I heard, through the dense whiskers around his mouth, him whispering "We've got him! He's slipped up! You're so clever, Eli! We've got him!"

It took all my willpower not to smile. Or to run up and kick Brik, who was accepting a small hunk of meat from Pinecone.

"And you won't consider our offer to introduce you to a company of players that might employ you? Either as an actor or as a stage hand?"

Pinecone laughed and it sounded like ten cows dying at once. "No, I like it here. It's nice. I like it."

"Thank you for your time anyway," I said, helping Olf down the steep path towards the village. "Brik!"

Brik came scampering up behind us, managing to make more noise than Pinecone by kicking up sticks, swearing and spitting. "We taste horrible!" he shouted. "We taste horrible!"

"Yes," I said, more to myself than to anyone. "But we are crafty. An ecological disaster, eh, Pinecone? Well... it's not the season for it, but I'm pretty sure there's still some danger of a forest fire."

The flint in my pocket was heavy but my heart was light. Everything was going to be okay. We were going to go back to only being eaten twice a year. I was going to make sure of it.

Posted by Michael at February 14, 2003 12:47 PM