The Muffin Man Cometh!!!

“Do you know the Muffin Man,
 The Muffin Man,
 The Muffin Man,
 Do you know the Muffin Man who lives on Drury Lane?”
       - Old English Nursery Rhyme

     “Gather ‘round, children, and I will tell you a story.”  Gramma Rose leaned back in her old cricket rocker as her three grandchildren, Timmy, Maggie, and John sat on the floor at her feet.  “Now, what story would you like to hear?”

     “Tell us about the three bears!”  Maggie squealed.

    “Tell us about the princess in the glass castle!”  exclaimed Timmy.

     “Tell us a scary story.”  said John.

     “A scary story?  Ah, yes, I think I know a scary let me think...oh, yes, I do remember a mildly chilling tale.  Now you’re sure you won’t be scared?”

     “I won’t be, Gramma.  I’m a big boy,” stated John confidently.  “But Tim and Maggie are just babies.  Maybe they’ll be scared, but not me.”

     “I’m not ‘fraid!”  Proclaimed Maggie.

     “Me neither!”

     “All right then, if you’re sure you won’t be scared, I’ll tell you a story.”

     “‘Bout what, Gramma Rose?”

     “Well, have I ever told you the story about the muffin man?”

     “Oh, that old rhyme.  That’s sissy stuff,” John informed her.

     “Oh, no.  Not the rhyme.. The rhyme is only part of the story.”

     “Tell us the story about the Muffin Man!” Maggie nearly shrieked.

     “Okay, children.  I will tell you the story - but you must remember that even though the story is true, it can never happen again.”  They all said that they would.

     “Well, it all happened once, a long time ago...”

                                            *      *      *

     “Once upon a time, there was a lovely princess.  She had no end of suitors, but always turned them down.

     “Then one day, a handsome prince came to court her.  He did not have much to offer her, only a small kingdom, but he did something that no one else could do for her - he baked her-”

     “Was he the Muffin Man?”

     “I’ll get to that in a minute.  Anyway, this prince, I believe his name was Prince Epal.  Yes, that was it.  Any way, Prince Epal made the lovely princess-”

     “What was her name?”

     “Princess Rose.”

     “Are you the Princess?”

     Gramma Rose paused for a moment.  “Well, if you’re just going to spoil the end of the story, I’m not going to tell you.”

     “Aw, but Gramma Rose, please tell us about the Muffin man.”

     “Oh, that.  Well, see, he has the head of a muffin, and walks around eating babies and tearing little kids to shreds.”

     The children stared at her in bewildered silence.  “How do you know that,

     “Because -”  she tore off the rubber mask which concealed her face and stood in all her butter-crumb-topped flakiness.  Light glinted evilly off of her eyes, as well as her moist, delicious blueberries.  “- I am the Muffin Man!”  The Muffin Man then persisted in taking the three small children and tearing them into fine strips and putting them into the Hydra-Lux to make kid jerky.

       The End

“Do you know the Muffin Man,
The Muffin Man,
The Muffin Man,
Do you know the Muffin Man
Who lives on Drury Lane?
He knows you.
He knows who you are.
He knows where you live, where you sleep.
He knows your fears.
He knows your fate.
He’s watching you right now...Behold, the Muffin Man cometh!”
    - The Nightmare’s Epitaph