Once upon a time, there was a wombat named Emilio. Emilio was a very special wombat because his nose contained a Pez dispenser.
He realized that normal wombats did not have candy factories in their noses. The deformity resulted from a cruel experiment by Carnivorous Confections, Inc. When he was a young marsupial, he’d been captured by mercenaries and subjected to bizarre and seemingly pointless interrogations and sugar experimentation. Early in his imprisonment, Emilio recognized the deep insanity of his primary captor, Dr. Winifred, Carnivorous Confection’s lead scientist. Winifred, a slight man who smelled of sheep’s milk, would stalk around the animal experimentation lab, rattling the cage bars and shrieking, “Admit to the divinity of sucrose! I know you are in contact with It, you foul, furry lumps of flesh! Convey my messages to the Divine Web of Sweetness at once! Why are my requests not granted? What is preventing their transmission?” His frantic, menacing eyes would appear at Emilio’s cage as if estimating his animal capacity for deceit. “Yes, yes,” Winifred would mutter. “Yes, I’m sure you’re the one …”
At first, during the long, fluorescent-lit days of his captivity, Emilio feared Dr. Winifred and his mystifying insistence that there was Sugar God accessible only by marsupials and small mammals. But soon the man’s unexpected rampages became a source of amusement. The other animals (three rabbits, seven rats, a hamster, a carpet python, and a pair of surly kangaroos) were relieved to see someone else taking the heat, and Emilio’s good-natured perseverance endeared him to the group. He entertained the other inmates with a list of Winifred’s accusations, which he memorized and performed during the man’s lunch breaks.
“Filthy marsupial of pestilence!”
“Infidel, you deny me nirvana!”
“Despicable, treacherous wombat! Your insolence will not go unpunished!”
“You withhold the sacred pleasures of sugar, and you shall be made to reveal them!”
“I shall place a Pez dispenser in your nose, fiendish pile of fuzz!”
This last one was a great joke among the lab animals at first. Then one day Dr. Winifred entered the lab with a gurney and a tranquilizer gun. He began shuffling about the room, spraying disinfectant and chortling. This behavior was nothing unusual, but then Emilio noticed the old lunatic was clutching a pack of brightly colored Pez dispensers with Tweety Bird heads. Winifred’s skinny arms reached into the cage and clutched the back of Emilio’s neck, and immobilizing him as he deftly measured Emilio’s nose with one hand.
This was not a good sign.
“Bite him!” squeaked the hamster, but he could not reach Winifred’s hand. He stared at the garish Tweeties through their plastic packaging. They returned his gaze coldly.
He felt the needle’s sting and sunk into a drugged haze, dreaming of narwhals swimming gracefully in a torrential sea.
When he woke, he reached up and felt hard plastic embedded in his nasal cavity. He heard other animals gasp as he raised his head. The youngest rabbit snarled in terror.
The old lunatic had done it. Emilio’s prominent wombat nose had been replaced by one of the Tweeties!
He could have collapsed then, and given in to the fear and despair. Instead, Emilio shouldered the burden of deformity and resolved to focus on whatever new abilities he had. He would not be beaten by a crazed scientist obsessed with a non-existent deity!
He realized that Winifred must have not only implanted the Tweety, but also altered Emilio’s DNA structure by adding genetic code for candy-secreting enzymes. Emilio realized that if he twitched his tail to the left a few times, a Pez would appear in the Tweety’s mouth. It took him a few times to get the hang of it, but soon he was spitting candy at every animal in the room. They murmured their appreciation, all except for the python, who suffered from cavities. Emilio found that he did enjoy the scent of Pez, although he suspected the candy was a cheap knock-off brand. As they munched on generic Pez, the lab animals discussed the day’s events.
“Don’t you think it’s a bit odd,” said one of the rats, “that his life’s work is creating a wombat that can produce candy at will? I mean really …”
They heard the faint sounds of Winifred gloating in his office across the hall. “Candy falls from its nose like heavenly fire scorching the mountains! SWEETNESS IS MINE!”
Emilio ignored it. “Yes, I agree. Where’s the satisfaction in having a plastic Loony Toon hanging out my nose? How does this benefit the world? What useful contribution to society is he making? Isn’t science supposed to be noble?”
“He’s crazy,” the hamster said flatly. “There is no great philanthropic motivation behind his nefarious deeds, Emilio. He’s a genius, sure, but he’s playing without a full deck. He’s a delusional nutjob who believes some Sugar God is going to—.”
Suddenly the python reared his head and hissed. The male kangaroo rolled his eyes and grumbled, “Oh Christ. Jeff’s ‘channeling’ again.”
Emilio watched the snake warily. “Eh?”
“Oh,” said one of the rabbits, “He’s convinced that his ancestral memories give him a direct conduit into Satan’s mind. He has these fits—” the bunny gestured to the convulsing snake “—and spouts a bunch of threatening BS about apocalypses and annihilating our souls, then comes to and says it was Satan.”
“FOOLISH WOMBAT!” shrieked the snake. “Are you so blind that you cannot see my diabolical plot?”
“Um …” said Emilio uncertainly.
The snake turned his blazing eyes toward him. “It is I, SATAN, who possessed the mortal shell of Winifred, and I, SATAN, who masterminded this evil plan! I wish to bring unfettered SUGAR to the animal kingdom. ALL HAIL SUGAR! I desire rotting teeth and burned out pancreases! Insulin spikes! Malnutrition! I desire addiction, chaos and destruction! You are my pawn. You will distribute the tasty yet non-nutritive confection to each animal you meet upon your release.”
Emilio appraised the snake. The overwhelming scent of brimstone, the chorus of demonic voices speaking as one, the mysterious appearance of the cloud of flies. Jeff’s channeling seemed legit.
“So,” he said, swallowing a half-crunched Pez, “if I agree, you’ll go away and leave me alone?”
“Yes, of course, until it’s time for me to collect your doomed soul.” Satan seemed sincere. “And as an added bonus for your continued cooperation, I’ll remove the Pez dispenser when I’ve finished creating the army of wallabies with Pixie Stix pouches.”
Emilio considered. “Ok,” he shrugged.
“Emilio!” cried the hamster. “You aren’t seriously going to do what the Prince of Lies wants?”
“Look,” said Emilio, “I want a normal nose again. If Satan just wants me to play Easter Bunny and traipse about the countryside distributing candy—“ here the rabbits scowled at this callous description of their sacred Easter ritual “—then I’m game. It’s a stupid plan anyway and will never work, so what’s the harm?”
“Yes,” smiled the python. “What’s the harm indeed? Good, clever wombat. I shall now summon my minions to free you.”
And that is how Emilio the Wombat became the slave of Satan. He was right, it was certainly a stupid plan and it didn’t work at all because most animals got sick of candy pretty quickly, and the carnivores generally refused to bother with eating it. However, Satan was willing to admit defeat so long as he got to dine on the delicious Soul of Marsupial and drink up the screams of the damned, topped with a delightful spoonful of pure, unfettered sugar.
THE END
