The Misfit Boy

After a long day of dentisting, Hermey, a misfit elf formerly of Santa's workshop, found himself at the door of O'Malley's Pub in the port district of the Island of Misfit Toys. Yukon Cornelius was away ice fishing with misfit Malibu Barbie, but Hermey was pleased to see that the misfit cowboy's ostrich was already tied up at the hitching post. Hermey made his way through the cheerful bustle to his usual corner table.

"Howdy there, Hermey!" greeted the cowboy, kicking out a chair for his friend to sit down.

"Hullo," replied Hermey in his characteristic nasal squeak.

"Now there's a pretty filly," said the cowboy, gesturing with his drink towards a booth nestled against the far wall.

Hermey turned for a look. A pair of large men sat on either side of a dark, candle-lit booth, hunched over hot skillets of meat and fried potatoes. On the left, tucked into a corner, was a pretty young girl in a simple white dress, an emerald scarf holding back her auburn hair. She seemed to be very unhappy as she trailed a spoon through her soup, but before Hermey could get a better look, she was eclipsed by her large benchmate. The burly man leaned over to shovel food from his skillet into his maw. Garbed sailor-fasion, he had a mannish mermaid tattoed on the corded muscle of his arm and a fat gold hoop in his left ear. His shaved head was covered by a polka dotted handkerchief. A broad forehead sloped down to bushy eyebrows which in turn brooded over dark, beady eyes and a broken nose. As fierce a sight as the sailor was, the man across the table was more menacing still. He wore a black wool hat over a tangle of long red hair. His right eye was covered with a patch, but an ugly, suggestive scar continued down the side of his face until it disappeared into a short red beard. He sat with one leg tucked under his seat and the other stretched out from the table where it terminated in a wooden stump. His right arm ended in an evil-looking metal hook instead of a hand and he was stroking his beard with it as he glowered out at the other patrons with his good eye.

"Oh, my," squeaked Hermey.

"That's Strawberry Shortbeard, the notorius pirate," whispered the misfit cowboy.

"And the girl?" She seemed very pretty, from the glimpses Hermey managed to catch, and he felt an unfamiliar flutter in his chest.

"I don't know," said the cowboy. "Shortbeard doesn't take women aboard ship from what I've heard."

"I wonder what her name is," murmured Hermey dreamily.

"Come now, Hermey, she's out of your league. We're all a bunch of misfits here, remember?"

But Hermey couldn't take his eyes away from that shadowy table. The girl remained hidden in her dim corner but brief candlelit glimpses built her into a beauty in Hermey's wide eyes; he was smitten. He was on his fourth rootbeer when Shortbeard and his party got up and hurried out of the pub. Shortbeard muttered and glared his way to the door ahead of the rough looking sailor who ushered the girl along with a firm hand on her elbow.

Two rootbeers later and Hermey had worked himself into a state.

"I'm going after her," announced Hermey.

"What!" the cowboy almost toppled out of his chair in surprise.

"She's leaving with the pirates. Maybe she's in trouble."

"Maybe she is," scoffed Misfit Cowboy. "What can you do?"

"I don't know. I'm tired of people telling me what I can and can't do! I had enough of that at Santa's workshop. I... I... have to at least talk to her." Hermey pushed away from the table and stood up a little shakily.

"Hermey! Don't be foolish!" called the cowboy, but he was too astonished to move as his small friend strode purposefully out into the night.

Charlie-In-The-Box was pulling sentry duty in the harbor and he informed Hermey that Shortbeard's ship was sailing at dawn and further, that the auburn haired girl was housed in the aft cabin.

It was a foggy night and Hermey snuck aboard easily and made his stealthy way to the aft cabin. He trembled outside the door for a long moment, summoning his courage. At last, his heart ready to burst in his chest, he pushed open the little door and hurried inside, shutting the door behind him.

The girl had been feeding soup crackers to a large misfit parrot, but spun with a frightened cry when she saw the diminutive intruder. Hermey winced at the sound. As he turned to face her, the parrot in the corner cage squacked.

"Don't be afraid!" said Hermey in a rush. "I... I'm here to rescue you."

"Rescue me? You... You're an elf... aren't you?"

In the soft lantern light, she looked as lovely as ever, but something about her deep voice spoiled the image. Maybe she had been crying.

"Yes, I'm a dentist. I have a good practice—"

Just then the door burst open and Shortbeard himself stomped into the room.

"Argh, and what have we 'ere?"

"An elf dentist, father. He says he's here to rescue me," the girl said huskily.

"Came fer me son, did ye, lad? Argh har, har!" laughed Shortbeard.

"You're son?" Hermey felt weak.

"Aye, laddie. This here's me misfit boy, argh! Thought this here be the Island of Misfit Boys, me did, argh! But burn me whiskers if I didn' be readin' me map amiss, argh! Lost me good eye, and now I don' be seeing good no more."

"I... I... best be going then," squeaked Hermey.

"You be doin that, lad, argh!"

Hermey retreated to the docks as quickly as possible where he ran into his drinking companion leading his ostrich along the wharf.

"What happened?" asked Misfit Cowboy.

"Nothing."

"But—"

"Nothing!" Hermey stalked away towards the pub.