An Unexpected Parody by Valerie Estelle Frankel;

Author:Valerie Estelle Frankel;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Libreka GmbH
Published: 2018-11-19T00:00:00+00:00

Welcome to Elfland, Happiest Place on Earth

“This way!” Following the compass needle, thirteen dwarves and one wizard raced between the boulders. Frappe was carrying Bumble, who had received a near-fatal breath of goblin stench. “Look!” cried Spottie. “We’re saved! Look at that chasm! It’s the hidden entrance to Denny’s!” They piled into Denny’s, where they were rewarded with many trading cards. Tragically, however, the Denny’s was offering a menu of shire cuisine. The halflings were known for pouring sugar on pancakes, butter on pot roast, and egg yolks on sundaes. Thus it was a long time before they could haul themselves up and leave.

As they stumbled from the feasting hall, their eyes beheld a wondrous sight. The valley seemed to sparkle, as if the very trees were polished daily (in fact, they were). Their collective eyes teared up a bit from the strong floral scent but mostly from amazement. They had seen this place in a thousand commercials, though they had never dreamed they’d reach it. This was the fabled realm from which all air fresheners and floral carpet cleaners originated, though it was said they were only a pale imitation of the original Elf Smell (patent pending). Here was the Great Crystal Geyser, famous on the labels of thousands of waterbottles. To the left, they beheld the Hidden Valley, where children eat their vegetables with special ranch dipping sauce. In short, it was the source of all that was fine and noble and pure in the world of mass-market advertising.

“Look! There at the end of the rainbow. It’s a city!” Ploppy cried.

“No, I think it’s a matte painting,” said Sloppy.

“Whatever it is, it’s beautiful!”

Bumble breathed in the heady scent of lavender. “It smells like an underwear drawer.”

“Not mine,” said Frappe in horror.

“It is the valley of Alergiblis, or in the common tongue, Elfland,” said Gonedaft. “The domain of the high elves. They are experts with herbs and potions and all manner of growing things. They welcome all travelers who don’t pry into their business, although they totally have medical licenses for all the medicines they craft…”

“So these are the High Elves?” Torn sniffed suspiciously. “You’ve guided us to the land of our enemy! And worse–to a place with fresh vegetables and drinking water!”

“It’s good for you,” Gonedaft said dismissively. “But remember–the elves are a merry, charming folk, who will happily sing while they pluck out your eyeballs and toss them into the ranch dressing, so try to be charming. Or at least, not so much of your usual self.”

They approached the gates, which were fine, stately ones of curving wood in a graceful arch, with giant broccoli stalks cunningly trained to wind themselves around the lintels. Signs dotted the walls, offering deals on movie replicas, posters, and tie-in novels, for the elves were renowned for crafting and merchandising. Gonedaft tapped on the gates politely with his staff and was rewarded with a musical doorbell chime. A head poked out from above the broccoli, wearing a cap of lettuce. “What you need most is an encyclopedia set,” Gonedaft said in the ancient elvish greeting.

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