Wistful Remembrances of Stories From My Youth

From Plastic Tub

Written by Stimes Addisson in 1967 or 1969, long before the "muppet" meme is generally believed to have entered popular consciousness.


A sad yet curious posture driven against the wind wires snow nazis, with all their delicate plumage, out of their nests. In the corner, alongside the dust mites and the spools of hopelessly entangled thread, lay a rusted television clattering away in a gee-gaw motion while a barely perceptible muppet mocks everyone who sees him in a way which really hurts. The snow nazis are daily reduced to tears after catching his visage and becoming transfixed for a bitter harangue. One poor fraulein was decimated, a pile of weeps upon the floor, mumbling through her sobs before leaping to her feet so suddenly she had hurled herself out the window before anyone could stop her. Fortunately, they were on the first floor.
It was after this vicious session of ridicule by the beastly little muppet that the snow nazis made their first attempts to capture it, with the vauge hope of using it on political prisoners -- if only they could get work with them.But their efforts were doomed to failure. First of all they made the mistake of facing him head-on, thinking to overcome his continued harangue until they had him firmly tied with a cord and stuffed into a box while they could figure out what to do next. It was in these first attempts that he had cast them all the coldest of fish eyes which stopped them in their tracks. Then with a slow, methodical, reproachful tone, he lay them all prone with a humiliating diatribe against their characters. He somehow managed to call the f├╝hrer a poof in such a way that it caused one hapless young guv to pee in his jackboot.
The muppet was quick as silver, like a leprechaun really, or some othe such sprite of ancient lore ranging from the malicious to the delightful to the just plain annoying. There was sadness to this perverse little creature, and there was a pity commingled with the hatred the snow nazis felt for it. His speed and this uncanny ability to manipulate his would-be captor's emotions made him an impossible target who seemed at times to be in two places at once, or to have converted the spaces behind dressers and under beds into unfathomable reaches: dark, echoing, and with a trodlodyte stench.
So it came to pass that the snow nazis had to resume their work in the presence of this hateful muppet, some with blinders on to prevent them from catching his eye, and some with earplugs to drown out his mockery if they were so unlucky to have crossed his path. For he was always appearing in front of them, in drawers or wastebaskets, always around the corner waiting to catch one's eye. And if he did, the earplugs never seemed to work.
It is not clear why the snow nazis never left the building. Some say they began to move, but he appeared at the new offices as soon as the first desk was delivered. They decided not to bother and attempted to devise some simpler method of ridding themselves of the accursed muppet.
Wholoe, berganum, et fils. The moral: The Sufi we larder is graven.