Carefully, we crept our way forward, wary of any trap that may have been sent to thwart us from the vast hoard that was ripe for the taking. My superior leadership kept the others from any misplaced steps that could spell our doom. Our first obstacle stood before us, unyielding and solid. The door, well crafted, barred us entry, and not having any means to open it through conventional methods, we had to improvise.
“Anyone have any ideas on how we can get in here?”
“We could look for a backdoor,” came one suggestion.
“That would take us far from the lake,” I countered, not wanting to leave one of our greatest assets behind.
“Maybe we should ask for help,” came another suggestion.
“No one would help us and what we are doing is against the rules. We are on our own.”
“Let’s just bash the door down and be done with it.”
“That would certainly get us in trouble. Besides, we have no way to repair the door once we are done. This needs to be delicate and quiet.”
We put our heads together and sat there for a moment to ponder our options. Sadly, violence was not the answer, and as time went on, we would only get hungrier. Tempers would flare soon if I did not lead the others to victory, so time was of the essence.
“What if we replace one part of the door at a time, leaving the final door unlocked, and then assemble the original door off to the side here.”
“Would it even be the same door, or would it be a different door, even though all the pieces would be the same?”
Our ponderings deepened with this new take on things, for such was one of the many mysteries that plagued us.
“I don’t think that would help because none of us know how to assemble a door, much less take one apart.”
“What about a window then? We can easily open the rain shutters and open the window pane proper with our tongues.”
“Hmm, a good start, but none of us can fit through any of the windows.”
“Unless we shrunk ourselves down. We are normally smaller than we should be anyway, why not go smaller?”
No one found a reason why that wouldn’t work. They had never tried it before, for being larger was usually better to get attention and to scare away bad people.
“Then we can take all of it and put it on a heap outside. We can each take turns subtracting from the heap.”
“But at what point will the heap no longer be a heap if we keep subtracting from it?”
That stopped us in our tracks, for we didn’t have a good answer to that one either. We eventually decided it would be best to determine that through experimentation. We were about to make our way through the window when our lookout sounded the alarm.
“Behold, a man!”
Three heads turned in unison to do a spot of beholding on this newcomer.
“Good eyes, Dio, but while I agree he is a featherless biped, I don’t think he technically counts as a man.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I got a whiff of his scent. He smells just like Papa. He even looks like Papa, maybe Papa’s Papa. I don’t think he is technically a humanoid, because Papa isn’t.”
The pantry raid would have to wait. The newcomer had been spotted standing at the gate, and with one elegant jump, he vaulted over and landed gracefully inside the yard. Cohesion dispersed into the nether as dissenting opinions arose.
“He is an intruder and we need to smash him,” said Diogenes.
“We need to be careful, we have no idea who he is or what he wants. For all we know, he is here to unlock the pantry where the delicious snacks are held,” countered Aristotle with cautious excitement in his thought-voice.
“Perhaps we should parley and come to terms after we deduce his intent,” chimed in Socrates with neutral reasoning.
“Papa put me in charge. Let’s slip back into the lake where we have cover and prepare for diplomacy. Dio, you take the right side if negotiations break down. Socrates, the left. Aristotle, you take overwatch. I will take the center. Let’s see what he wants. Let’s avoid anything too destructive as Papa will be upset and withhold snacks if we wreck the place.”
Graceful as a spider-penguin, we slipped back into our lake, barely creating a wake as we waddled across the bed of it, our heads popping back out just enough for us to see the intruder. He waited patiently for us to get into attack pattern alpha, and once we were fully situated, he strode casually in our direction.
The man, or maybe not-man, wore a long black cape that concealed much of the front of him. Well dressed in black with gold trim, his black hair looked just like Papa’s. This man had a short and thin beard just along the jawline, along with a simple mustache to match. His cape parted to reveal a large sack in hand, and from it wafted the most heavenly of scents that drifted our way, our nostrils caressed by that most divine of scents.
SNACKS!
Snacks made of meat, grilled to perfection, coated in seasonings and sauces, the meat itself injected with at least three different cheeses. Our mouths’ watered as saliva dripped into the lake without any concern for decorum or decency. We each knew only one thing, that we needed this snack above all others.
Fight, flight, freeze, or fawn; those were our options. Fleeing was right out, as we would never get the snacks that way. Fighting was an option, but the man made no indication of trying to withhold our birthright and very reason for existence. Freezing may work, but then our superior camouflage may make him lose sight of us, at which point he would walk past us, completely unaware of us due to our superior steathynessitude.
“Operation Fawn is a go! I repeat, Operation Fawn is a go!”
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Our four heads rose from the water, our immaculate chorus of begging and praise for the snack-giver gracing the air. Our heads rocked side to side in unison as we lowered them closer, our voices ringing gentle and clear as we gave our best pleading eyes, all bright and filled with hope.
The man opened the bag, and from it he withdrew the aforementioned snacks. Each haunch of meat was larger than the bag itself, and considering four shares had defied physics to fit within the bag, some pocket-dimensionry was at play. Completely mesmerized, we stared in rapt attention as the man offered up that most delectable of delicacies to… to…
Dio.
With snapping jaws, Dio snatched the snack out of the man’s hand, the lucky bastard suckling on the savory flavors as he swished it around in his mouth and let the juices flow through him. Yet ever hopeful, our eyes, sans Dio’s, turned back to the man, following the hand as it returned to that cornucopia of comestibles, that pouch of provisions, that gunny of grub, that blessed satchel of snacks!
Next came an identical snack for Socrates, followed by one for Aristotle. Ever hopeful that the best would be saved for last, I, Plato, patiently awaited the snack as my willpower crushed that of the others, overpowering control of the legs as I performed the tippy-tap dance underwater.
Then, that heavenly morsel was withdrawn from the sack, and holding it aloft before me, the man smiled in exactly the same way Papa did. At that moment, I felt as safe as a hatching in Papa’s arms when he hand-fed me my first meal. Delicately, I accept the offered tribute with adulation.
A tsunami of flavor exploded within my mouth as I squeezed the juices from the meat. Cheese flowed freely, seeping into my taste buds and indeed my very soul as I ascended to new heights of flavor. That outer layer of meat, perfectly shy of the border of being charred, unleashed a torrent of ecstacy through my mouth as my whole neck quivered with delight, my mortal form forgotten as I soared through the heavens in the arms of the angel of snacks. The bone in the haunch cracked beneath the might of my fangs, the inner marrow most succulent as it oozed its way into the meat, making one final feast of savory sensations.
But almost as soon as it began, my journey to flavor town ended. The cold, harsh reality of a world without snacks crashed back into me as my soul found itself ejected from the very heavens themselves. The grim and cruel reminder of a world where Papa and Mama barely fed me rung like a bell in my newly enlightened consciousness. It had been two whole hours since last they had offered a meal, and not even this glorious new snack could stave off the foul and ever-present machinations of starvation. Bereft of a second helping, I sought solace in the company of my brothers, each also likewise in a fugue after that singular and glorious experience.
My wits returned, I found the man no longer stood before us. Just before he vaulted the fence once more, I caught a glimpse of the back of his cape, whereupon a strange and golden spiraling triangle symbol was evident in black background of the fabric. I knew not what it meant, but I would keep an eye out for our Papa-Not-Papa-Snack-God in the future.
“I feel strong,” thought-said Dio.
“Me too,” chimed in Aristotle and Socrates in unison.
“I make four,” I agreed. “I feel strong enough to raid the pantry.”
I witnessed the heads of my brothers bobbing in unified agreement at my suggestion. Slyly, we turned upon our new prey, slinking closer through the water and up the beach to the house where Papa and Mama lived. Surreptitiously, Aristotle worked the window open while Dio kept a lookout.
“Goth ith,” Aristotle told us in his thought-voice as his tongue finished opening the window. Why he would think in a lisp while his tongue was busy remained food for thought.
“Prepare for downsizing!”
I activated [Hydras of Unusual Size], shrinking us down to a more appropriate size that could fit through the window. We went in heads first, each bracing our necks and noggins along the wall inside the house, taking care not to bite, scratch, gouge, or otherwise leave any marks that would give away our pillaging. Working together, we pulled our torso through as I controlled it and our legs. Things went swimmingly until they didn’t.
“Help me brothers, I’m stuck!”
Working together, we employed all our leverage to brace and lift our tail end higher, relieving pressure off of how it pressed against the window pane and allowing me to wiggle our hips through the window an inch at a time. Once our hips passed, we slid right through, and so unbalanced due to our long necks and concentration on fitting through, we tumbled into a heap. Carefully, one of us extracted our respective neck from the heap until we were no longer a heap of hydra necks on the floor, and now standing upright, we gleefully waddled over to the pantry.
Daintily, Aristotle gripped the handle to the pantry door in his teeth and gingerly pulled, taking care not to make any marks upon it. Socrates wedged his tongue between the slightly ajar door and the frame, signaling Aristotle to release his grip on the handle. Dio, in his excitement, accidentally headbutted the door, and a muffled cry of pain exited Socrates’s mouth as his tongue got pinched. In a great labor, the likes of which were worthy of a saga, Aristotle powered through the pain to open the door. Jaw snapping and fangs bared, Aristotle reared up in challenge at Dio, whom himself didn’t even have the decency of looking contrite.
“Peace, brothers,” I thought-commanded the pair of them. “Dio, you owe Socrates two snacks for that.”
“Not my fault it is so crowded in here. There’s nowhere to spit in here but in his face.”
“Now, now, brother Diogenes. Now is not the time to be covetous. I have altered the deal. You now owe three snacks. Pray I do not alter it further.”
With a huff, Dio begrudgingly accepted his punishment, and with the pantry door now open, I had the others hold back while I withdrew a few snacks.
“We have apples, potatoes, tapotoes, tomatoes, and peaches that are all easy to extract. I’ll take your orders now.”
A chorus of orders came my way, each requesting what they desired as I handed out snacks fairly to each of my brothers, taking snacks for myself last, for I am a generous snack giver.
Just then, a ring of golden light appeared around our feet. Aghast at the poor timing, we scrambled to try to close the door as we sunk into the light. Unable to move our lower body, we struggled vainly, our heads too close to the door and unable to move out of the way to close it.
“Egads! We left the window open!” exclaimed Socrates.
“And we tracked mud everywhere!” provided Aristotle with a strong note of concern.
“Maybe Papa won’t notice,” expressed Dio with wishful thinking.
Unable to do much to hide the evidence, we grimly accepted our fate, each like the stalwart captain going down with the ship. Once through, we found ourselves in the void between worlds, our body contained within a large beam of prismatic light as we zipped along at high speeds. Alongside us were two large frogs, Hopper and Ribbette.
“Oh hey guys!” I sang to them. They stoically glanced at me, their expressions slow in response as they traded looks with one another. Slowly, they each saluted us, perhaps gleaning our intended greeting despite not speaking our language.
A tongue lashed out from Hopper, landing on my cheek and licking off some peach juice. He tasted it for a moment, his eyes skewed in an appraising look. He cast his gaze between us, and then rubbed one webbed finger down a finger on the other hand a few times in a clear sign of admonishment.
“Hopper isn’t the brightest of the bunch, but even he figured out our snackscapades. What do we do?” asked Aristotle.
“We have to be good boys and fight hard for Papa and Mama so that they overlook our snacky ways. After all, we needed the extra strength of snacks to triumph.”
My brothers, reassured by my sound logic, calmed down. Silently, we drifted along our path of light, with other similar paths flaring in and out of existence in the distance. Today would be a good day, one of precious snacks and a good scrap with unknown foes. Long had it been since we got to let loose, other than sparring with Papa. Each of us were eager to prove ourselves and perhaps maybe be rewarded with increased rations for the foreseeable future.
The light brightened into one last brilliant burst, and then we found ourselves back in reality next to Papa. Mama, Auntie, and He-Who-Cooks-The-Good-Snacks were nowhere to be found. Maybe Papa wouldn’t notice the snack juices.
“Oh Boys! I left you unsupervised for two hours, and you already managed to steal some food.”
Okay, he noticed.
“Operation Fawn is a go! I repeat, Operation Fawn is a go!”