Coconiño

by Jeff Provine

 

     Once upon a time, not too long ago, there was a mean, ugly, nasty, old witch who lived in the desert.  She was, in fact, the third meanest, ugliest, nastiest, and oldest witch in the world.

 

     Like all mean, ugly, nasty, old witches, this witch had one favorite food:  little children.  She liked them baked, broiled, grilled, between two slices of whole wheat bread, honey-glazed, and even as kid-cicles from the freezer.  Five-year-olds were her favorite.

 

     Since the witch lived in the desert all alone, there were no kids around to eat, which made her all the meaner and nastier.  She kept an eye out for wandering children to eat, but children these days knew better than to talk to strangers since they might very well be a witch ready to eat them.

 

     After one particularly child-free day on the Fifth of May, the witch decided that she would just have to bake her own little boy and eat him.  She looked through her cupboard for ingredients, digging out flour and eggs and sugar and spices and a big sack of chocolate.  The witch liked chocolate almost as much as she liked children.  She thought nothing would be tastier than a little chocolate boy, a Coconiño.

 

     The witch mixed together the ingredients in a big bowl.  She put in milk and eggs and flour, as well as the things that make little boys, like a handful of Funny Faces, two scoops of Running Around, and a pinch of Tree-Climbing.  By accident, she dropped in a whole jar of Cleverness when she meant to put in Somersaults.

 

     “Oops, but oh well,” the witch told herself.  “He won’t taste any different.”

 

     She shaped a little chocolate body with a chocolate face, a little chocolate poncho, and a big chocolate sombrero.  After sprinkling him with some Eagerness, she baked him in the oven.  When the timer dinged, Coconiño sprang out and shouted,

 

     “Hello, World!  My name’s Coconiño!”

 

     “It sure is,” the witch said.  “Now, get on my plate so I can eat you!”

 

     Coconiño had only been alive for one minute, and he didn’t much like the thought of being eaten.  Instead, he ran out the kitchen door.

 

     As soon as Coconiño’s little chocolate boots hit the hot sand, they began to melt.  The sun beat down on his little chocolate sombrero, making its brown brim floppy.  He tried to keep running, but his chocolate body was just too soft.  It wasn’t too long until he stumbled and fell into a pile.

 

     The witch chased after him and scooped him up on her plate.  She grumbled, “Now look at you, all melted!  I’ll have to take you back into the air conditioning to let you set again.  Then I’ll eat you!”

 

     Coconiño liked being back inside the cool kitchen, but he didn’t like the witch’s plan of eating him.  He couldn’t run away, but he did have his extra dash of Cleverness.  When he looked at the calendar hanging on the wall, it gave him an idea.

 

     “You can’t eat me,” Coconiño told the witch.

 

     “And why not?” the witch asked.

 

     “Because today is Cinco de Mayo!” Coconiño told her.  “You have to eat nachos and fajitas and tacos and burritos!”

 

     The witch liked the sounds of all those foods, even if they weren’t made of children.  But, she shook her head.  “I don’t know how to make any of those.”

 

     “I’ll cook them!” Coconiño announced.

 

     By this time, his chocolate body had hardened enough that he could jump off the witch’s plate and onto the countertop.  He set about mixing cornmeal with water for tortillas.

 

     The witch sat back and watched him, patting her hungry belly.  “Hurry up with that food.  I’ll have it as the main course and then you for the dessert!”

 

     Coconiño cooked and cooked and cooked, using all his Cleverness.  He grated cheese, sliced tomatoes, and kneaded dough.  He wore oven mitts to keep his little chocolate hands from melting over the frying pan.

 

     After only a little while, Coconiño brought out a whole platter of food.  The witch was practically starving by now, and she threw rice and beans into her mouth with both hands.  She ate with so much gusto that she even jumped onto the table!

 

     When she finished eating, the witch said, “Ah, that was good.  Now time to eat you, my dear Coconiño!”

 

     Coconiño waved his little chocolate hands.  “Not yet!  There’s another course coming!”

 

     Before the witch could snatch him, he darted to the stove and cooked some more.  He cooked and cooked and cooked, giving the witch plate after plate full of tacos and fajitas.  The witch ate and ate and ate, eating so much that she began to puff up like a balloon!

 

     Around about midnight, Coconiño reached for some more taco shells, but found that there weren’t any more.  He checked for beans and meat and eggs and anything else, but the cupboard was completely empty.  He had cooked all the food in the house!

 

     “Oh, ho!” said the witch, her mouth all round and full with chubby cheeks.  “Now it’s time for dessert!”

 

     “No dessert for me, thank you!” called Coconiño, and he ran out the kitchen door again.

 

     Now while the desert in the daytime is very hot and sizzling, at night it gets nice and cool.  As Coconiño ran, his chocolate body stayed good and firm.  He ran and ran and ran until he disappeared in the darkness.

 

     The witch jumped up from her chair and tried to chase after him, but she got stuck in the door.  She had eaten so much and gotten so fat that she couldn’t get out of her own house!

 

     After pulling herself out of the doorway, the witch grumbled and looked at the piles of dirty dishes Coconiño had left.  All she could do was wash them up and then go to bed with a severe tummy ache from eating too much food.

 

     That night, the mean, ugly, nasty, old witch decided that cooking children was too much trouble, even if they did taste good.  Instead, she lived out her days eating Brussels sprouts, goose eggs, and mushrooms.  They weren’t as tasty, but at least they didn’t trick her and run away.

 

THE END