Buford the Blue-furred Ogre

by Jeff Provine

 

     Once upon a time in a forest not too far from here, there lived a blue-furred ogre named Buford.

 

     Now, if you know much about ogres, you’ll know that they aren’t usually covered in blue fur.  A few have brown fur on their knees and in their armpits, but none of them have blue fur.  None that is, except for Buford, who had blue fur from the top of his head right to the tips of his toes.

 

     If you know much else about ogres, you’ll also know that they have a tendency to be mean and nasty for no good reason.  The no-good reason they chose to be mean and nasty to Buford was because he had blue fur.

 

     The ogres were mean to Buford every chance they got.  They would poke him with sticks when he wasn’t looking.  They would trip him so he fell in the mud.  They would even shave him when he was asleep so he’d wake up bare in a big pile of blue fur.

 

     One day, when Buford decided he’d had enough of the ogres being mean and nasty to him, he headed off into the forest and vowed never to come back.  He was in a bad mood from all the poking and tripping and shaving, which made him he stomp angrily as he went.

 

     It wasn’t too long before he crossed paths with a meek little Mouse.  The Mouse squeaked and ran up a tree to get away from Buford’s big, stomping, blue-furred feet.

 

     “You should watch where you’re going,” the Mouse warned.  “You could’ve stepped on me!”

 

     Buford yelled at the Mouse, “You should get out of my way before I stomp down and squish you between my toes!”

 

     “Now why do you have to go and be so mean and nasty?” the Mouse asked.

 

     Buford growled and scowled.  “I’m being mean and nasty to you because all the other ogres have been mean and nasty to me!”

 

     “Just because someone is nasty to you, doesn’t mean it’s okay for you to be nasty to someone else!” the Mouse scolded him.  “You should know how that feels, more than anyone.”

 

     Buford had never heard it that way before.  He opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn’t think of anything good to say.  Closing his mouth again, he sat down by the tree and started thinking.  Buford thought and thought and thought before something finally came to his mind.

 

     “I suppose I’m sorry then, Mr. Mouse,” Buford said.

 

     “You should be,” the Mouse told him.  “Now, then, Mr. Ogre, how about making it up to me by helping me gather berries for my Family and Friends?”

 

     “I’d be delighted,” Buford replied.

 

     Buford followed the Mouse to the berry patch, where the Mouse would pick up berries two at a time and scurry back to his nest.  Buford could pick up a whole branch full of berries with one hand.

 

     “You could do my whole day’s gathering in one trip!” the Mouse exclaimed.

 

     Buford found himself smiling proudly.  It felt good to help others, much better than being mean and nasty to them.

 

     Buford helped the Mouse back to his nest, where all his Family and Friends were waiting for berries.  When they saw an ogre, they squeaked and started to run away, but the Mouse stopped them.

 

     “This is Buford,” the Mouse told them all.  “He’s big and strong and will help us make all our gathering so easy we can do it in one trip!”

 

     All of the Mouse’s Family and Friends were so happy to hear the news that they immediately started singing and dancing.  Buford joined them, being careful with his feet so that he didn’t dance on top of anyone.

 

     All the mousy ruckus caught the attention of the other ogres, and they wondered what the hubbub was about.  When they sneaked up to see, they were more than surprised to see Buford dancing among the mice!

 

     Being mean and nasty for no good reason, the ogres began laughing at him.  They said that he had found some other furry creatures just like him and began to call him names like “bluebird”, “Blues Brother”, and “Oxford Blues.”

 

     Buford stopped dancing and started to feel sorry for himself.  He tried to just ignore the other ogres, but that only made them be meaner and nastier.

 

     The Mouse stopped dancing, too, and wrinkled up his nose at the ogres.  He yelled at them, “Buford’s our friend, and you should stop being so mean and nasty to him!”

 

     “Who’s going to make us?” the ogres yelled back.

 

     “We will!” all of the Mouse’s Family and Friends shouted.  They scurried after the ogres, running up their bodies and biting them wherever the mice could find a place to sink their teeth.

 

     The mice were too small for the clumsy ogres to catch.  All they could do was wave their arms and shriek.  When they had had enough of being bitten, then ran off into the forest, never to bother Buford again.

 

     Now Buford really felt like celebrating, and the mice did too.  They sang and danced and feasted on the berries Buford had brought late into the night.  When it was finally time for bed, Buford slept right there with his new mousy friends.

 

     Buford and the mice lived out the rest of their lives happily ever after.  And to this day, if you’re lucky enough, you might still see some of the mouse-nests in the forest that have little tufts of blue fur they borrowed from Buford to patch their homes.

 

THE END