Legendary Hero of the Munchkins

The munchkins, being mostly small and less strong than other species of the cinnaverse, have a hero who they think of as the supreme example of a munchkin specimen. Though it’s mainly been forgotten or looked upon cynically by younger generations, it’s well loved by the nostalgic munchkin elders as a mythical image of what they once were and what they should strive to be. 

Teacups nowadays are much more docile, but back in the day they were quite the troublemakers. Teacups were prone to conflict, not necessarily violent, but always LOUD. Any day or night of the week one would find them barking up a storm should any two or more teacups not of the same pack would cross paths. Their conflicts would take place anytime, anywhere, and it was quite the daily annoyance across the many towns and cities of the cinnaverse. 

Most days there was someone around to break up the fighting before anyone got hurt, but one night there was barely a soul on the street when two teacups just happened to meet. They didn’t attack or even retreat, but they did glare at each other and stomp their big feet. Soon enough they’d begun to bark and bark, until you could hear it all over the park. 

Other teacups of all flavors began to join into the fray, blueberry and steak and lemon sorbet, they all began to bark and howl, until it swept up the whole town in the ravel. 

Then all of a sudden, there came a sharp screech. It echoed and rattled all through the town, it seemed to be coming from everywhere, up and down. The teacups all went quiet, for fear of their lives. And who should come striding in, smelling of ginger and chives?

It was the one, the only, the great and sonorous RUMPUS MUNCHKIN! With a hiss and a roar and a great bounding leap, all of the teacups scattered like sheep!

And what became of The Great Rumpus Munchkin, after the eponymous night came to a close? Well, no one knows. Some say he still lurks in the shadows even to this day. Some say he passed on, to a better place. Some say he works retail and is struggling to pay off a mortgage and some faulty stock market investments. But in any case, his deeds precede his stature, and whoever has known of him does not know the real him. 

The wisest of us say he lives in our hearts, that we must carry on his legacy by striving to make the world a better, less loud place. Perhaps that's not always through intimidation, but also by diplomacy, being the bigger cat not in stature but in intellect. This isn’t a lesson that the fable itself teaches, but it’s honestly a better lesson than telling kittens to add to any given argument by screaming their tiny little heads off in an effort to make the arguing stop without solving any problems. It really doesn’t help in the real world to contribute to the noise if you aren’t trying to make something wrong into something better.

While the old tale has its charms and function as wish fulfillment, the idea of a munchkin being seen as a strong and brave hero must be a poignant one to many, there are more salient ideas which could be taught to the younger generation via such a story, in which they are the hero through kindness and intellect rather than swinging their weight around like their own bullies. 

But of course, the structure of the story is really just working on fairytale logic. Why do the teacups bark? That’s just how they are. Their barking has no meaning in the story, and coincidentally Rumpus Munchkin’s screech doesn’t have any meaning either. The story, as a feature and not a bug, has no real philosophy except praising Rumpus Munchkin for being loud when everyone else was also loud. 

If one were to transform the fairytale into a story with a more nuanced moral, one approach could be to have two distinct factions of teacups having a disagreement of some kind, and their animosity keeps escalating because they choose to posture and intimidate instead of working towards a peaceful solution. Then, perhaps a neutral or third faction of teacups or even munchkins might contact the Rumpus Munchkin and call him to mediate the dispute so that the disagreement doesn’t tear the whole town apart. The same big screech and leap could still be a part of the story, but perhaps this time it’s of a judge banging the gavel to call order where there’s chaos. Or, if we truly want a Rumpus, our hero dons the fake mask of a villain to be a common enemy that the teacups are terrified of, and must unite against if they want to walk the streets without fear. In any case, the teacups would need closure for a tangible issue in order for the moral to shine through. In the judge version, maybe the lesson is to keep a cool head and not let anger cloud your judgement when solving a problem. In the masked villain version, perhaps the story is that since a munchkin is small a certain amount of trickery is needed to compensate for a lack of intimidating presence. 

But of course, that all complicates a rather straightforward and easy to understand fairytale about a loud cat who saved the day by jumping and screaming. Perhaps in all of this, the true takeaway is that the real world is much more complicated than any story or fable, and should be approached as such. When you hear a short, uncomplicated story, it may be that the real situation had been very different, or else it was all made up to begin with. It’s not guaranteed, but it’s often the case. In the real world, each person has a story of their own, oftentimes even multiple in one lifetime. And if there’s a conflict, that should be respected so that their stories and your can have a happy ending.