Oscar was a
likable ogre, but he still ate children, because that’s what ogres do. He was
great at work, fun at parties and active in the church. Everybody liked him. He
remembered birthdays and anniversaries with cards and gifts. His cave was
always the first decorated at Christmas time and he could always be counted on
when the PTA held a fundraiser. He lent out his gardening tools; helped folks
clean out their garage and was always the first to welcome new neighbors with a
friendly smile and a hot casserole of neighbor kid au gratin.
The little
town put up with Oscar because they had a lot of unlikable children around and never
wasted a morsel. The parents would get a neatly wrapped parcel of undigestables
like buttons and loose change with a thoughtful note attached. At first they would
be, then they'd read the note and realize they never really liked little Billy
or Susie very much and they still had six more likable children left. After a
while they’d come around and realize Oscar saved them the expense of raising an
Internet porn star, chiropractor or political consultant and send Oscar a thank
you note in return. After all, Oscar was a likable ogre.
Even the
kids liked Oscar--up to the point where he bit off their head. He always gave
away the best candy on Halloween and took his scout troop camping or to a ball
game every month. The local scouting council was upset when he'd return minus a
boy or two. He ate kids, but he wasn’t homosexual or an atheist or anything
against the rules.so their hands were tied.
Besides
there were always new recruits clamoring to join his troop, so they decided the
casualties were acceptable as long as he never ate Eagle Scouts or other
promising sorts.
Oscar had
the uncanny knack for finding the least welcome new comer at the table of life.
He would befriend them, raise their self-esteem, and then eat them. The locals
got pretty astute at reading the signs; if a new kid with a bad attitude suddenly
started feeling better about himself, he was headed for an Ogre pot roast. As a
result the kids of the little town were well behaved and tried to live up to
their potential.
But these
things are relative and Oscar was sharp; there was always a kid who was least likable
in any group, no matter how hard they tried. Oscar never went hungry.
This went
on for years and Oscar got older and older, he was eating the grandchildren of
people whose brother or sister he’d eaten years before. It should have been a
golden time for Oscar, but it seemed like the kids were getting faster. Truth
be told, he had lost a step or two in his golden years and Oscar started losing
weight and looking poorly. This concerned the people in the little town who
took steps to level the playing field.
Occasionally
a few of the families would break a kid’s legs and leave him or her on Oscar’s
door step or let the kids in wood shop and auto repair class know that they
were going away for the weekend and leaving their liquor cabinet unlocked. Any
number of good for nothing Juvenile Delinquents drew their last conscious
breath after awakening from a drunken stupor on the floor of Oscar’s lovely finished
basement. Yet despite their best efforts, nothing seemed to work, Oscar
continued to decline. The little town despaired.
One day a
child who didn't like broccoli and refused reasonable adult requests to settle
down, awoke from a laudanum induced haze in Oscar's humble cave. He found Oscar
slumped over his workbench where he’d been knitting Afghans as Christmas gifts
for his neighbors. Oscar was cold and stiff, his green skin an unhealthy pink
color. Oscar was a dead ogre.
The little
town mourned. Oscar had arranged for them to get free cable TV including major
pay channels, but the local Cable Company was going digital and with Oscar gone
they didn't know what to do. The local kids heard about his demise almost
immediately and right away began to question adult authority and act like wild
Indians.
Christmas
was bleak that year in the little town. No one put up decorations or visited
much, the bake sale didn't raise enough money to buy new PCs for the computer
lab at school. The Church couldn’t raise enough money for a new roof and lawns
started looking scruffy and unkempt. The kids were downloading porn and violent
games from the Internet, and nothing anyone did or said could control them.
Finally the city council took out an ad that said, “Small town looking for
Ogre”. It ran in newspapers back east next to the ads for military schools.
Only one
ogre answered the ad: Larry, but he was never as likable as Oscar.
