Mr. Mint

I sauntered through the Peppermint Forest, twirling my hatchet happily and leaving footprints in the soft, minty snow. I looked up at the curved tops of the red and white 'trees' and took in a great breath of minty air. Oh how I loved this place! I was quite convinced it was one of the best places in all of Candyland! But then, I was sure that's what everyone said when it came to their own homes.

I finally reached my target--a good-sized peppermint tree--gripped the smooth handle of my hatchet, and went to work chopping. King Kandy had specifically ordered one to help with the construction of a flagpole at his castle--a job I was most honored to do.

I still remembered when I met the gracious king. I was a representative from the Peppermint People who dwelt in the Minty Mountains who had journeyed from afar to explore the wonders of Candyland and perhaps even make alliances. In short, I was footsore and hungry. The king had immediatly taken me into his hospitality and agreed to my leader's terms just as quickly.

But I didn't want to leave so soon. Candyland had turned out to be even more than the rumors had promised. And so King Kandy, noticing my knack for wood cutting and carpentry, had suggested the uninhabited and unkept Peppermint Forest. It would give me a job and would keep his forest in good shape--two chocolate chips in one cookie.

And thus, my new life had began.

It only took a few minutes and a couple drops of sweat to get the candy-cane down and loaded it into my cart, leaving me more time to deliver it. I soon fell into my usual habit of whistling and made my cheery way out of the forest and onto the colorful pathway to the castle.

I whistled and sauntered my way down the street a ways and right into Lord Licorice's territory where things always got a mysterious shade darker. But I paid it no mind and just kept up my usual long stride, figuring it was the clouds overhead.

"Must you always be doing that?"

My whistling and I stopped.  I looked up to see Lord Licorice himself. He was walking my direction, probably heading for his castle.

I smiled, "Doing what, Sir?"

He scowled, "Whistling, humming, singing--do you ever stop?!"

I chuckled, "Well, as I always say, Oughta-gotta have fun!"

He suddenly seemed tired of the conversation and moved to push past me. As he did, the sunlight glinted off something clutched in his gloved hands.

"Hey," I asked innocently, "What's that?"

He paused and slowly turned to me, the patient smile of a nerve-ridden parent plastered on his face.

"That is none of your business. It's time you keep that little nose of yours," he pinched my red nose and shook it to emphasize his point, "to yourself."

He spun back around and I rubbed my smarting nose consolingly. Poor Lord Licorice. He never seemed as happy as the other folk around here.

Shrugging it off, I turned back around and resumed whistling.

The End

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