The Parable of the Orange Ogre

And the townspeople who offered him precious gifts

Once upon a time there was a large orange ogre who lived in a cave lined with jewels. He spent his days polishing them and admiring himself on their reflective surfaces. The cave was hidden deep in the rich forest, but sometimes a maiden would walk by and the ogre would reach out and grab her by the ***** and drag her back into his dark lair. What he did with her there is anyone’s guess. The maidens were never heard from again.

Some of the townspeople felt bad about the maidens so got together to consider how to rid themselves of the ogre. They came up with many plans, one after the other, but couldn’t agree on which plan was best, so spent most of their evenings gathered in the meadhall drinking mead and arguing over strategies for ogre eradication.

Others admired his strength.

This second group began leaving small and large offerings for the ogre in hopes he would throw them a bone. Or a diamond.

Teddy left the backbone of a small rodent. Mitchey left the soul of righteous man, which he had captured and trapped in a mason jar. Lindsey left a pair of lips glued to an ass, which was an Art project he had started in college but never finished after he switched majors, yet the ogre enjoyed it nonetheless, placing it on a shelf among his red rubies. And other townspeople left other gifts: the distant laughter of an innocent child; a tiki lamp on a stick; the ogre’s likeness etched in sand on a plate…

The ogre liked being flattered in this way and occasionally did throw out a bone — which looked suspiciously like the femur of a maiden — but never once threw a diamond. And things continued in this way for a very long time, with the ogre getting bigger and fatter and the townspeople getting more and more argumentative, or solicitous, depending on which group they belonged to. Until one day a maiden concluded that enough was enough.

She dressed slowly and carefully that morning, pulling on freshly creased pants, a crisp white shirt, a perfectly tailored jacket, and a new pair of Chuck Taylors, in case she had to run fast. And in her waistband she tucked a small knife. Then she set out into the forest.

When she came to the cave she stayed back, out of reach, so the ogre could not grab her by the *****. “Hello, Ogre!” she called from a safe distance. “I’ve come to admire you! Come out of your cave!”

Deep in his cave the ogre paused in his polishing. “Hmmm,” he thought. “that sounds like a maiden. I will enjoy doing what I do to maidens (which is anybody’s guess).” And he grunted in satisfaction and shambled out to the opening.

But when he got there, he found no one at the mouth of his cave. “Who dares to summon me?” he roared in his most powerful voice, which sounded a little like a helicopter. “Show yourself!”

“It is I, a fair maiden,” the maiden replied, taking one step out into the clearing with her hands on her hips. “Please sir, step into the light so I can admire your great strength!”

The ogre stepped out into the sunlight and puffed out his chest, giving the maiden a provocative leer.

Teddy left the backbone of a small rodent. Mitchey left the soul of righteous man, which he had captured and trapped in a mason jar. Lindsey left a pair of lips glued to an ass, which was an Art project he had started in college and never finished after he switched majors

“Oh, Mr. Ogre,” the maiden breathed, taking one step closer. “What marvelous hair you have!”

The ogre smiled broadly then and tossed his head back. “For me, it must be perfect. Don’t you think it’s grand?”

“Oh, Mr. Ogre,” the maiden breathed again, taking another step closer. “What big hands you have!”

The ogre laughed outright at that, so great was his pleasure, and he held up both his hands with his fingers outstretched. “You see what I mean? It’s not true what they say — that I have small hands. It’s fake news!”

“Oh, Mr. Ogre,” the maiden breathed again, taking a third step closer, so she was just outside the ogre’s reach. “What enormous feet you have!”

The ogre was pleased beyond reckoning to hear his feet praised. He’d always heard that truly manly men had enormous feet. He looked down at his own, and lifted one slightly, so both he and the maiden could get a better a look.

Then she pounced and cut off three bone spurs, leaving the ogre writhing in pain on the ground.

“Nooooooooooooooooooooooooo!” he cried.

“Yes,” said the maiden.

“How could you do this to me? I thought you liked me!?! I’ll never be able to walk again!”

“Good. Now you won’t be able to grab anyone else by the *****, and the townspeople will stop arguing, and leaving you presents, many of which are not even theirs to give!” (by which she meant the distant laughter of an innocent child, and HOPE, and a long black robe, and other great treasures the people owned together, but not Lindsey’s Art project).

“But what will I do now?” the ogre sniffed. “You’ve ruined me!” And one big crocodile tear ran down his face.

“Oh please,” the maiden tossed her hair impatiently. “Just go back to polishing your diamonds.”

At that idea the ogre’s face brightened. So he crawled back to his cave and never came out again. And the maiden took off running in her Chuck Taylors, like a beautiful streak of lightening flashing through the dark forest. And the townspeople stopped arguing and groveling and giving away each others’ treasures, and decided that since they had beaten the ogre, they might as well turn their attention to climate change. And everyone in the town lived and worked together happily ever after.

THE END

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