Corndog Liberation

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“Let’s try to herd them away from here before those men come back,” Annabelle said.

They used their oars and the men’s discarded sticks to encourage the corndogs away from the fissure.

Mirabelle sidled up to her twin. “Did you get a look at those men?”

“Briefly.”

“Notice anything odd?”

“That they were orange and bald and kind of lumpy?” Annabelle said.

“Yes. That’s what I thought I saw, too.”

“That proves we’re in the Southern Hemisphere,” interrupted Adolphus, “where intensive sun exposure makes everyone darker.”

“It doesn’t make anyone orange.”

“On the Indian subcontinent-”

“People are all different shades of pink and tan and brown.” Annabelle snapped. “No one is orange.”

Adolphus looked uphill where the herders had run into the forest. “They were.”

The corndogs swarmed about their feet, playfully tickling the children’s ankles with their silk.  The children led them down to the riverbank.

“They won’t all fit in the boat,” Claire said. “Where can we take them that those men won’t find them?”

“I’m hungry,” Gerhardt complained.

“I could run back for some of that popcorn,” Adolphus said.

“Adolphus!” The twins spoke as one, which they often did when chastising their elder brother.

“What?” he asked in wounded tones. “It’s just sitting there. I’m not going to pop anyone else!”

“I wonder if they can swim?” Claire mused. “They might be safer on the other side of the river.”

“If we can cross it those orange fellows can too.”

“They might not think to,” Claire answered, “besides, we don’t know anywhere safe.”

“Keep them!” Bettina cradled a corndog like a baby, tickling its husks.

“And feed them what?” Mirabelle asked. “They should be attached to a stalk, getting water and nutrition from the soil and energy from the sun. What do we feed corn?”

Bettina thought. “Butter?”

Claire picked up the closest creature and dropped it in the river. Bettina shrieked. It disappeared for an anxious moment, then popped up to the surface, flailing its husks. It didn’t go under again.

“Right,” she said. “Back in the boat, everyone.

They herded the corndogs into the river, and managed to lead them to the opposite shore. They walked them downstream. Adolphus, who was getting quite good at it, poled Bettina and her pet in the boat, keeping up with the walkers as they plodded along. It had been many hours since their breakfast turnips, and even the softest-hearted of them now wished they’d let Adolphus fetch some popcorn.

“You know,” Annabelle said, “rescuing these creatures and leading them miles away is probably some sort of crime here.”

“What?” Gerhardt was furious at the very idea. “Setting them on fire is good, and saving them is bad?”

“Well, these corn-dog-things are obviously not wild, so they’re domestic. If raised for food here … it’s sort of like going to the stockyard and loading all the cows back on the train at gunpoint, isn’t it?”

They thought about this for a while, except for Adolphus, who was singing his obscene Italian lullaby, and Bettina, who was falling asleep to it, cradling a dozing corndog.

The children stopped and looked at the herd.

“We’ve led them miles away,” Mirabelle said, “and they’re all slowing down a bit. It’s a long way on those short little husk-feet.”

The corndogs milled about aimlessly. Many lay down as soon as the children stopped walking.

“We’ve taken them as far as they can go today,” Claire said at last. “Let’s set up camp and find something to eat.”

They all agreed, for they were hungry and weary, all the more tired after the excitement of charging the corndog herders. They upturned their boat to make a shelter, divided into teams to search the meadow and nearby woods for food. They had no luck, and went to bed hungry at last.