Pavement. Some people said it was the concrete or cement that they walked on. Others, neither the majority nor minority of those questioned, claimed it was the black tar and gravel mixture that they drove on.
Curious creatures, the little man thought as he plodded along.
A precious few believed it was unimportant what the pavement was comprised of and instead focused on its use, claiming that it was this that defined the word. He supposed they were most likely to be correct.
He continued to walk, his little shoes clicking happily against the pavement. To most who viewed him, he looked a small boy no older than ten years of age. Certainly he couldn't have been taller than a yard stick. That, combined with his fanciful clothes, gave him the appearance of quite an odd boy indeed.
Still, some people were more astute and recognized the age in his round, handsome face. True, his hair was as thick and ruddy as it had been in his youth, and no wrinkle had ever besmirched his face, his eyes could not conceal the number of times he'd seen the seasons pass. Nor did he want them to.
His shoes clicked on, the sound of it bringing a wide grin to his face.
Such good shoes, he thought. They were dreadfully hard to come by these days. In fact, proper clothes in general were getting harder to find with each passing year. He'd been fortunate as it was to be as finely dressed as he was.
Brown cotton pants, white collared shirt, suspenders, a light jacket with a hint of green and his red cap tucked under his arm, a peacocks feather protruding from the upturned side of the brim.
And then there were his shoes. Deep, earthy brown leather molded comfortably around his feet, firm but not too stiff so as to provide support should the urge to dance strike his fancy at a moments notice. There were no laces, but rather a pair of fine brass buckles. One over the bridge, the other above the ankle. The soles were padded an inch thick with a hard leather bottom that clicked so merrily as he walked, while at the same time cushioning each step.
Yes, he thought, a fine pair of shoes.
The little man rounded a corner and was met by a roving mongrel of a dog. It's hair was matted and the ribs along its side stuck out like the surface of a washboard. The little man stopped. The dog eyed the little man.
“And what will you be wanting?” The little man asked, a soft lilt in his voice.
The dog backed warily but did not take its eyes off the little man.
“Your life has been a hard one,” The little man went on, almost singing as he spoke. “Oh poor pooch with boney sides, come let me ease your way. Some meat, a bone, what ere ye ask, I'm sure to grant this day.”
The dog whimpered but it didn't back away any further. The little man smiled, nonthreatening as he placed his red cap on top of his bushy red head. A steak flopped onto the pavement between them, fresh and warm, juices running over the ground and being soaked up where it touched the shoes and paws on its either side. For a time it looked like neither side would move again, so still they stood while facing one another. At last, the dogs head stooped, ever so slightly, lower. It sniffed the air, licked its paw and took a step forward.
The little man's eyes twinkled in an uncharacteristic sinister way. The dog, however, didn't notice as it had become engrossed in the steak. Its jaws snapped messily, flecks of bloody meat speckling its snout. As the dog ate, the little man pulled out a block of wood and a carving knife and, sitting down cross legged on the ground, began to widdle away at the block. No matter how hastily the dog ate, the meat did not seem to lessen. The dog bit and tore large chunks away, swallowing them down and moving in for more, and yet still there remained the steak. And still the little man carved. The block of wood was taking shape, a head and slender body.
The dog ate, frantically trying to hurry its meal. Its eyes were fixed on the little man and his carving and it managed a whimper between bites as the carving gained two pairs of boney legs.
The dog tried to fit the whole steak in its mouth, to swallow the thing whole and be done with it but the meat flopped and folded itself into impossible to swallow shapes. The dog tried to drag the steak away from the little man but its teeth tore through the meat like a hot knife through soft butter. But still the dog ate, it couldn't stop now even though it wanted to. Its sides began to bulge, it had eaten so much. And still the little man carved.
“Oh and aren't you a pretty thing,” The grinning man said, patting the dog and putting away his knife. “I'm sure you'll come in handy.”
With that, the man resumed his walk, pocketing a small wooden carving of a dog. The pavement behind him was empty, not a sign of the meat left on the ground, not a dog in sight.
The little man's pocket, like his shoes on the pavement, clicked merrily. The sound of several little wooden figures knocking together as the newest addition found its place among the rest before settling back into stillness.
Faint cries of play and youth reached his ears.
He smiled, mischievous and cunning, walking along and tucking his hat back under his arm. His little eyes darted to the side as he turned another corner and he spotted his real goal, the whole reason he'd wandered so far for so long, the reason he'd collected the dog.
Children, he thought.
How long had it been since he'd had one of those? They were easy enough to get, the greedy little buggers, but the rules prevented him from being able to collect them except for in very specific situations. And this was one of them.
A whole group, the little man thought eagerly as he hurried along, tapping out a little dance as he went as he could not fully contain his joy.
This group of children, the little man knew, had yet to choose whether they were going to be good or bad. The choice was almost never a conscious one, but one that every child made and that decision would guide them throughout their lives. The decision was usually made around the same time the child became old enough to know the difference between good and evil. But every once in a while, for whatever reason, a child would postpone choosing. Such a child usually turned up once in every generation.
The little man's eyes glinted in the sunlight as he counted six young boys, all undecided. If he could get them to choose to be bad, he'd be able to collect them and they'd have to serve him a year and a day for each bad deed committed before he collected them.
One of the boys tripped his friend, laughed, and didn't help him to get back up.
The little man's grin widened until it stretched nearly from ear to ear and he touched the bulge in his jacket where his widdling knife rested alongside the small carvings.
After a few moments of watching the boys play, the little man reached into his pocket and pulled out the carving of the dog. He replaced the red cap on his head and in an instant a dog was ambling around his feet. It's sides were no longer lean and its fur was thick and glossy. It barked happily a couple of times as it bounced around but the little man, whose ears were well trained, picked out the faint yelp of warning hidden beneath. He eyed the dog warningly. The dogs behavior didn't change much, it still bounded around merrily and barked from time to time, but it did so a few bounds further away from the little man and the yelps were gone.
“Go play,” The little man said.
The dog bounded away, happy to be free to leave its master behind for the time being. The boys, who had noticed the dogs barks and had been watching, smiled as the dog joined them and began to bound back and forth from boy to boy. Each boy took it in turn to try and catch the dog but it always slipped free of their grasp at the last minute. The boys laughed, at first, but after a while some of them began to grow frustrated.
With boys such as these, it didn't take much to get them to make their choice and before long, the fat boy began to lose his temper.
“Stupid dog!” He shouted when he missed catching the dog once again.
The dog, instead of going to another boy, bounded back to the fat one, giving him another chance. The boy lunged, the dog dodged, the boy hit the ground. He got up and the dog leaped to his side. The boy reached out and the dog slipped out of his grasp.
The fat boy cursed and the little man smiled, readying his widdling knife.
The boy reached down and picked up a stone. He cocked his arm and the dog stood still as the boy took aim.
“No!” Cried a shorter, skinny boy and knocked the rock out of the fat boys hand. “He's just playing with us.”
The little man frowned and pocketed the carving of the dog.
The fat shrugged, then nodded. “Sorry dog—
They couldn't see the dog. They looked around, called for it a few times, and then resumed their play. The little man was thinking, going through the carvings in his pocket. He pulled out a cat, examined it, then put it back and pulled out another carving. It was the dog. He hadn't meant to grab it and put it back, coming back out with a small bird. He rolled it around in his hand, watching the boys play, thinking about how best to win over the boys. He'd been so sure the dog would work but the one boy in the group seemed to have a soft spot for the creature and that could ruin it all. He nodded and reached into his pocket for a second carving. He drew out the dog and frowned.
“I have no use for you,” He growled and tried to shove the dog back into his pocket. The front paws of the carving caught on the lip of the pocket and jammed. “In with you!”
The little man pushed harder, the wood didn't yield and instead the seams on the pocket began to burst.
“No,” The little man cried, dropping the dogs carving and holding the torn edges of the pocket in his hand. “Look what you've done!”
The carving lay on the ground, a dogish smile etched on its face. The little man scowled, pulled the carving of a monkey out of his damaged pocket and gave the dog a stomp.
CRACK
When he pulled his foot back, the carving had only three legs. It's sides were thin and its face was frozen in a yelp.
The monkey hopped down from the little man's shoulder and picked up the wooden dog, rapped it against the pavement a few times, gnawed on it, and then climbed back up to the little man's shoulder, still chewing on the dog.
The little man smiled. The monkey had always been a good servant.
A parrot flew down and landed on the little man's other shoulder and whistled softly. The little man nodded to the two animals and then strode across the pavement toward where the boys were now playing tag.
“Hello,” The little man called out to them as he approached.
The boys paused in their playing and watched him walk over.
“Hi,” Said the skinny boy from before.
“Can I play?” The little man asked.
The boys nodded, except for the skinny one. He made the little man nervous. Of all the boys, the skinny one was the only one who posed any threat to his plans.
“How old are you?” The skinny boy asked, his eyes focused on the little mans eyes.
“Old enough to play with you,” The little man said in as juvenile a voice he could muster.
“Come on,” The fat boy said, “Leave him alone, he's got a parrot and a monkey.”
The skinny boy didn't look like he saw what that had to do with anything, but the other boys were all in agreement with the fat boy and they were crowding around to get a better look at the animals.
“Do they do any tricks?” Asked a boy covered in freckles.
“Oh,” Said the little man, “They know the best tricks there are.”
“Show us,” The fat boy said eagerly.
The little man nodded to the monkey and it hopped down and began to dance on the ground while the parrot sang. The monkey walked on its hands and the parrot mimicked each of the boys in turn. The monkey performed some pantomime and the parrot flew in loops above their heads.
“Do you want to see their best trick?” The little man asked.
The boys all shouted yes, even the skinny boy, and the little man motioned for them to gather close to him. The monkey and parrot resumed their perches on his shoulders.
“You have to promise not to tell,” The little man said.
The boys frowned slightly. They knew what that meant, the trick was forbidden, somehow. It also meant it was probably more spectacular.
“What is it?” The freckled boy asked.
“You have to promise not to tell first,” The little man asserted.
“Why?” The skinny boy asked.
“Because it's a secret,” The little man answered, giving the skinny boy a withering look.
“Is it bad?” The fat boy asked.
“It's fun,” The little man said.
“But is it bad?” The skinny boy repeated his friends question.
“Look,” The little man said, “I'll show you the trick, you don't have to help me, but you just can't tell. Okay?” The little man gave them a few seconds to think. “I promise you you'll like it.”
All of the boys nodded except for the skinny boy.
“No, I don't think we should,” The skinny boy said.
“Oh come on,” The fat boy said. “We won't be doing anything so if he gets into trouble we'll be just fine.”
The other boys voiced their support of the fat boy and the skinny boy shrugged and rolled something around in his hand. It was the carving of the dog. The little man looked at the monkey who seemed just as surprised to find its chew toy in different hands.
“Okay,” The little man said distractedly, finally tearing his eyes away from the dog. “Watch this.”
The little man pointed toward a man some distance away. The monkey and parrot took off immediately. The parrot distracted the man while the monkey sneaked up behind. The monkey let out a blood curdling shriek and the man jumped. Both creatures zoomed out of sight and the man looked around for them in vain.
The boys laughed and the animals returned to the little man.
“And the best part,” The little man said, “Is this.”
The monkey dropped a wallet into the little man's waiting hand. The boys oohed nervously as they watched him counting out the money.
“How did you teach them to do that?” The skinny boy asked.
The little man had expected that question, but not from the skinny boy. Regardless, the little man tipped his hat, careful not to remove it, and said, “A bit of magic and my handsome red cap.”
The other boys laughed but the skinny boy stood thoughtful.
“Would any of you like to try it?” The little man asked, pocketing the wad of money.
A few of the bills fell to the ground. His pocket had torn even more and some of the carvings were sticking out. The little man nervously stuffed the contents down deeper into the pocket but the seam only tore more.
“Right,” The little man said, still distracted. “Who wants to try?”
“I do,” The skinny boy answered right away.
The little man eyed him cautiously. He'd assumed he wouldn't be able to collect the skinny boy. Perhaps he'd been wrong.
“What do I have to do?”
“Just put them on your shoulder,” The little man said, offering him the animals. “When you've spotted who you want them to go for, just point.”
The skinny boy nodded. “And the hat?” He asked, reaching for it.
“No,” The little man said, raising both hands to hold tight to his hat, “That stays with me.”
Without warning, the boy slammed his hands down to the little mans pocket and tore it free. The carvings and money spilled out onto the ground. The little man shrieked in horror and moved to grab them up. Quick as lightning, the skinny boy snatched the now unguarded hat off the little man's head. For a moment, everything was still. Then in a flash, where there had been carvings of ducks and cats, cows and horses, stood the real beasts and as one they turned on the little man.
“A curse, a curse,” Was all the little man managed to get out before the animals had trampled him under foot, leaving nothing but a few scraps of cloth behind.
The boys stood, with the exception of the skinny boy, with a dumb look on their face as though they couldn't remember what had just happened. The animals wandered off and five of the six boys returned to their play. The skinny boy, still holding the red cap in his hands, placed it on his head and set the figure of the three legged dog on the ground.
That night, his family welcomed Tripod into their home.
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