Some people see not the golden light of the muffin. Instead, they answer to the wicked siren call of pies. These souls are oftentimes delusional enough to believe that some sort of pie being, known as the Great Pie Baker, might have been the one responsible for the kidnapping of the Muffin Man. Clearly, they are idiots. Kris is no exception. This is his tale of what he believes to have happened to the Great One.
THE MUFFIN MAN VS. THE GREAT PIE BAKER
Amid the darkness, a radio crackled to life.
"Mother Goose, red team is in position around the Citadel"
"This is Mother Goose. Roger that, has the egg been laid?"
"Roger that Mother Goose, we are in position. We will move on your mark"
The radio fell silent. The Great Pie Baker rubbed his hands together thoughtfully. Things were going as planned...
Setting high atop all things good, in the center of the Mighty Muffin Kingdom stands a Citadel. The Citadel was a grand mastery of architecture and culinary genius. In this Citadel resides the Muffin Man. Here, the Muffin Man was receiving news of his own plans coming to fruit.
"M'lord, I have good news from the outer provinces known as "La casa del Jeremy."
The Muffin Man took his time responding, allowing the words of his servant to sink in.
"Er, what... yes? Are you talking to me?"
The servant bowed her head in reverence, and then continued.
"The Dark Priestess of the Muffin has slain the last known pizza monster... She sends word that she will march back with her legions early tomorrow."
A smile more like a blender then a smile crept across the grim visage of the Muffin Man.
"Excellent. Dispatch my best rioting peasants to greet her at the gate when she returns. Soon the entire world will me mine to muffinize as I please!"
The paige interrupted. "Is muffinize a word?"
The Muffin Man’s blueberries began to crackle, his lips curling down as to room grew silent.
The paige, refusing to take note of the Muffin Man’s growing anger continued on. "Yeah, I really don't think it's a word."
"I am the one true God of these realms! If I say it's a word, it's a word! Now go, before I have you frosted and put on display as an example!"
The paige scurried off, deciding it was better to pursue the issue with someone less almighty. She instead spent the rest of the day playing billiards with a long forgotten 80's electric rock group.
High atop all things good, the Muffin Man smiled his blendery smile. All things were going according to his plans... or so he thought...
The word went out silently to the members of Muffin Resistance. All throughout the woods surrounding All Things Nice, troops took their positions and anxiously awaited the signal.
The radio crackled in the darkness. "Initiate start sequence. Lime team go!"
Just seconds after the command was given, explosions dotted the outline of all things nice. The north gate exploded in a well of flames, and the soldiers began to move. They sprinted quickly for entrance, brandishing spears and pie pans. The Muffin Man had been caught off guard, and there was little resistance. Peasants rose up to block the invaders, but were cut down quickly. Things were going as planned...
Deep in the recesses of the Citadel, the Muffin Man meditated. He was keenly aware of what was happening, but his confidence was not shaken.
"Slaughter the villagers if you please. They are of no consequence. In fact, slaughter as many as you like, Baker. You will never penetrate my most sacred sanctum before the Dark Priestess of the Muffin returns with her legions, and then you will have delivered yourself to me. Yes, kill as many as you like... I shall enjoy hearing them die..."
The Pie Baker moved at the head of his forces. They quickly cut a path through All Things Nice to the Citadel. Now, to implement stage two of Operation Frosting.
The soldiers quickly cleared a perimeter around the Citadel both keeping the peasants out, and the Muffin Man in. The Pie Baker watched solemnly as the resistance slowly began to fade.
The radio crackled.
"Mother Goose, we have secured an entrance to the Citadel. We are in position and ready to move."
The Great Pie Baker took a deep breath and held it for a moment.
"Meringue team, you are clear to move."
The Pie Baker waited silently for the next report. Seconds ticked away, then minutes. The Pie Baker felt as though he was going to be terribly late for something very important if they didn't report in quickly.
"Mother Goose, we are inside the compou - " A loud crash interrupted the soldier. The radio spoke no more words after that, only the screams of dying men.
The Pie Baker held out hope, but he knew deep down that those screams were the screams of his men. There would be no choice. He would have to go in himself...
The Muffin Man snickered to himself. It sounded more or less like someone was beating a badger to death with a shoe.
"Ah yes. The first of the rebels have died attempting to enter my home. That makes me happy. Perhaps I'll have some tea... "
He called for a servant to bring him some tea.
When the servant arrived, he accepted the tea, asked the servant to remind him later to decree that all proctologists will be issued steel toed boots instead of rubber gloves, and then the Muffin Man ate him.
The death cries of a badger could be heard echoing throughout the hallowed halls of the Citadel.
Outside the Citadel, The Great Pie Baker suited up for battle. He donned his pie plate-mail armor. A gilded helm of turkey sat atop his head. In one hand, a shield fashioned of pie crust, in the other, an artificially preserved cherry which hung on the end of a chain, in his sheath at his side, a trout.
The Pie Baker made his way to the entrance of the Citadel. He glanced at the door, took a quick peek back, nodding a salute to the men fighting so bravely behind him, and dove head first into the stronghold of the Muffin Man.
The Muffin Man finished his tea. His lips curled up, a blendery smile crossing his face.
"Ah yes, so The Great Pie Baker has decided to challenge me himself. Who does he think he is, daring to challenge me of all people... No no, it would be one thing if I were a person, but I'm a deity. Ah well, this may prove to be amusing. I shall meet him half way then."
The Muffin Man donned his own battle gear, and trudged off into the halls of his abode.
The Great Pie Baker came to the end of an extraordinarily long hallway. I mean a really, really long hallway. The sort of long hallway someone would put in his house to compensate for a lack of length in other notable places. A smile crept to the lips of The Great Pie Baker as he realized that the Muffin Man, the self proclaimed deity... he was really just upset over the size of his muffin nub.
"Oh well" he thought to himself "There will be time to tease about all that later. First I need to find him..."
Just as the thought cleared his head, a sound entered it.
This sound was the sound of the Muffin Man snickering... or rather the sound a badger makes when it’s getting beaten to death with a shoe.
The Pie Baker turned around quickly. His eyes moved down the hall. When the found what they were looking for, they let his heart know it should probably stop for a second. If nothing else, then in the interest of drama. At the end of the hall stood the Muffin Man, adorned for battle as was depicted in a great many sculptures the Muffin Man had placed all around All Things Nice just to get the point across that he was not the sort of chap you wanted to see dressed like that. It certainly meant you were in trouble, and right about now The Great Pie Baker felt as if he was in a great deal of it.
"So we finally meet, Great Pie Baker" echoed the Muffin Man "You have been a thorn in my side for a great deal of time. I'm glad you took it upon yourself to deliver yourself to me. It was really very thoughtful. I'll send your family a fruit basket to say ‘thank you’ after I'm done killing you."
The Pie Baker’s confidence returned as he remembered the Muffin Man’s inadequate muffin nub. "No no. You have it all wrong. You see, you are going to come with me and then I'm going to tease you a bit and probably kill you and set the world free."
The Muffin Man gasped. "Set the people free, what ever would you want to do that for?"
"Oh, erm, well. I hadn't really thought it all through yet. I'm not quite to that part yet, but I'm absolutely sure that's what I am going to do" Retorted the Pie Baker.
"Are you sure you won’t change your mind? I've some tea in the basement"
"Yes, I'm afraid I'm sure" came back the Pie Baker.
"Ah well, mortal combat it is, then. I do hope I don't get it all over the walls..." And with that, the Muffin Man drew his weapon.
The Muffin Man’s weapon was rather surprisingly, a loaf of bread. No-one is particularly sure why he wields a loaf of bread, but he does, and he's really rather good at it.
As the distance between the two began to close, the Pie Baker realized that his cherry on a chain would be of no use. He dropped it to the ground and drew the trout. The Muffin Man sped into action, charging the Baker with a speed and ferocity unheard of in the realm of baked goods. With lightning speed and precision accuracy, the Muffin Man swung his bread, landing a blow squarely on the head of his adversary.
The bread simply broke in half.
"That's all?" asked the Pie Baker. "What the hell was that? What kind of looney goes about trying to kill people with a loaf of bread? That's insane. You're apparently compensating for a lot more with this here hallway..."
The Muffin Man looked confused and first, and then began to blush a little. "Er, I uh, well..."
With that the Pie Baker slammed his trout down atop the Muffin Mans head, rendering him unconscious and naked.
The Pie Baker had no problems leaving the Citadel with his prisoner, nor did his troops have any problems covering the withdrawal, mostly because they had run out of people to kill.
No-one would even know they were there, save the craters from the explosions, the corpses of formerly rioting peasants, the missing Muffin Man, and a simple note left on the stoop of the Citadel.
The resistance movement made their way back to Southern Ireland to discuss their next course of action.
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