Once upon a time there lived a tribe of YumYucks. Anyone who took a look at them got hungry, so yummy they were. And even if they did not lay their eyes on them, they would be able to smell them. And the smell the YumYucks had was of the best sort: like thick chocolate slowly heating up, like cotton candy being spun at a fun fair, like cinnamon buns getting baked on a Saturday afternoon, like wild strawberries at the end of a hot August, all mixed together.
They lived sweet lives, full of fun, leisure, and goofiness. Anything that was savoury or simply lingered too long on the tongue was politely forgotten. Such flavours were unknown and almost unknowable to those who inhabited the world of delight.
Their little tribe was ruled by Crumbella—a queen proud and mighty who led a life that can be described as that of a donut in thick icing. She was always radiant and made her people even prouder than she was herself—her standards were very high, and she thus insisted on everyone behaving in the sweetest ways possible. On meeting other YumYucks, they would take a bow, kiss the hand, and greet one another with the most ornate expressions of love, friendship, and gratitude—flourishes aplenty. When they wanted to speak to each other, they used elaborate and elegant phrases, such as: “permit me to remark…” or “one may wish to consider”.
Crumbella’s castle was in the very centre of the kingdom—it was made primarily of biscuit for bricks and runny chocolate for mortar. It smelled heavenly and set an example for all YumYucks. Their houses were made of sponge with meringue roofs, while their vegetable gardens that surrounded their houses on three sides were not full of vegetables, oh no! They were full of sweets.
YumYucks spent their days cultivating and improving the scents of their kingdom—they cooked, baked, and experimented to achieve a mix of smells that would bring the most happiness to every little creature in their little world. Apart from them, it was inhabited by the most fantastical plants and animals you could imagine: marzipan mushrooms, fudge trees, sugar cane giraffes, and molasses monkeys swinging from…you guessed it! the fudge trees. The ground, if not covered with colourful sprinkles, was chocolate mud—anytime someone fell, they did not mind it too much.
On most days, nothing interrupted the sweetness long enough to be named or blamed.
Here we should probably mention that there was one YumYuck who was different. His name was Cocoa Nib, shortened to Nib, and he was bitter-smelling. In spite of his attempts in his early life, he could not change the way he smelled and thus remained bitter. Nor could he enjoy the kingdom’s sweetness as much as everyone else did. Because of that, he was often shunned or ignored by others. They did not greet him as warmly as they did the sweetly-scented YumYucks, and they did not show him as much love, friendship, and gratitude as they did the others. Some pitied him; others offered advice on how to become sweeter.
Nib knew how others saw him—they thought his life was a sad one—but secretly, he was not as unhappy as they imagined. For although he could not smell the sweetness that filled the air, he was also spared from being overwhelmed by it. He watched, he listened, and he noticed things the others did not: the fudge trees sagging ever so slightly, the marzipan mushrooms losing their gloss, and the subtle changes in the chocolate mud underfoot. When he mentioned it, the others smiled politely and moved on or simply sprinkled more sugar on it.
The queen issued edicts that asked everyone to become sweeter each day and had a small group of guards by her side who made sure whoever approached her was of the sweet kind. Of course, this excluded Nib. Sometimes he wondered whether the others were right: perhaps bitterness truly had no place in a happy kingdom?
In the world of YumYucks, summer was at its end — everyone was busy harvesting and storing what they grew: strawberries that tasted like sugar, sugarsnaps, apples of a deep red colour, and blueberries the size of mandarins. They were combined with sugar to make jams, marmalade, and ice cream, which YumYucks especially enjoyed when it was cold outside. The larders, freezers, and refrigerators of the YumYucks were in the best shape for the winter to come — keeping their sweetness at its peak was the goal.
Then autumn arrived, and the fudge trees began shedding their delicate fudge leaves. The youngest YumYucks, who normally could not reach them, were delighted. For a while, everything in the kingdom carried on as it always had.
But then one morning, the strangest thing happened. The kingdom was invaded! It was invaded by the most unpleasant scent — so strong that all of the YumYucks, including Crumbella, could smell it. It pierced right through their world.
The queen was especially affected. How was she to go about her day when wafts carried the smell of something… rotten! It was impossible for her to even pronounce the word herself, so she had her private secretary say it whenever she could not. He was most obliging, always whispering whenever he had to mention what was wrong in the kingdom.
The other YumYucks began to show signs of being sour, salty, and bitter — they did not bow as low to each other, their phrases became curter and terser, and argument after argument erupted like a volcano whose lavatic anger brewed for one thousand thirty-seven years, twenty-five days, four hours, and three seconds. The kingdom was changing for the worse, and no one knew how to restore its sweet splendour.
Crumbella, propped against very many down-filled pillows — for she kept fainting from the horrid smell — had an epiphany: how about inviting Nib to discuss the matter of the invading smell? Maybe he could help, or even get rid of it. He was an expert in bad smells and, as far as she knew, was not afraid to get close to them. No other YumYuck could be trusted with such a mission.
She sent her emissary to Nib’s house. When he learnt it was Crumbella herself who pleaded with him, he refused — he was perfectly fine with tolerating the smell. He could not pretend to forget how coldly the queen had treated him up to this point, so he sent the emissary away.
The very next day the bad smell intensified — the wind carried it on its gusts and the YumYucks’ behaviour got worse. Over the next couple of days, matters deteriorated — the queen was in a state of half-sleep all day long while her subjects spent their days arguing and shunning each other. Entire families avoided one another and went for days without speaking. Conversations became strained and incomplete, with some people eventually falling into complete sour silence.
In her last effort to rescue the kingdom, Crumbella asked her chamberlain to prepare a mille-feuille carriage in which she would go to Nib’s house to implore him to save the kingdom she cherished and ruled. She had to be carried by her faithful guards from the castle. When they placed her on the floor in Nib’s modest house, she said: “Nib, no one else in the kingdom can perceive this danger the way you do. Without you, the entire kingdom could rot!” Then, in a tone of repentance, she added: “I know I treated you abominably, for which I apologise sincerely. I was wrong and I was unfair. Please forgive me.” With her head bent, she was a pitiful sight. Nib’s heart trembled on seeing the queen thus enfeebled and conquered. He extended his hand to her, even though he knew it was not appropriate, and accepted her apologies.
His response was: “Your majesty, I would be honoured to help the kingdom go back to its state of sweetness. There is one condition: you will stop insisting on so much sweetness. Striving for excellence is fine but excluding others while doing so is not.”
Crumbella nodded again and again as he delivered his speech. “So, my queen, what is the plan?” Nib’s temper went from hot chocolate to ice cream. “I have none”, she sighed. “Maybe you could investigate? Spare no expense. Take my hard candy army with you — they are on alert and ready to fight. With your excellent sense of bad smells you can lead them where the invader is.”
“I shall, your Majesty,” Nib said with much pride as the sense of a very important mission was upon him. The queen thanked him again and left his house as she arrived — carried, groaning, and now full of hope. Nib, on the other hand, was a bit anxious but fought the feeling by talking to himself: “I am the one to do it!”, “It must be done!” “I shall do everything in my power to save my people and the kingdom!”
With much resolution and confidence he left his house with a spring in his step. Outside, the hard candy army, armourless for they were made of almost-stone, was waiting for him. Their commander was a small but hardy, round pastille. She almost barked “Pip Pastille of the Crystal Guards at your service!”
Nib was not sure about the military customs, names or barking at all so he just said: “Nib”. Commander Pip then invited him into a tent her brave guards erected next to Nib’s house. Pip’s orderly, Sugarplum, was ready to unfurl a colourful map on the table that dominated the centre of this provisional room.
The Commander waved her hand over it and said: “This is the map of the kingdom, we are here,” and with much determination she struck her finger against a house that was Nib’s. “Our presumption is that the smell that is wafting through the kingdom is coming from the east,” here again she knocked her long fingers on the table. “But as this is only our suspicion you are the one to tell us. We are going to advance with you as far as we can approach the bad-smell culprit, but to actually deal with it, you would have to do it yourself. My people are strong and brave but such a smell, the stronger it becomes, is going to overwhelm them. I will let you know when it is time for my army to stop.”
“Let us go!” Nib was ready. The army followed but first Nib stood in the middle of the kingdom, smelling the air. “You were right, Commander, we need to be heading east,” he said, looking at his compass just to make a bit more sure.
The day was sunny and the syrup-orange sun seemed to be aiding the smell in travelling, spreading, and poisoning the otherwise peaceful YumYucks. But Nib was very much undiscouraged. The company trooped along, their chests puffed out as though they could repel the odour by courage alone. The Commander marched at the front, with Nib by her side. “Do you know how to fight?” she asked. “A little,” came the reply. “I fought all my life with how people saw me.” He chuckled a bit. “I mean, can you wield a sword? Candy-cane spears? A slingshot? A liquorice lasso?” Nib was no longer so confident. “I would like you to teach me.” So every time the army stopped, they ate, rested, and practised their military skills. Nib was learning fast — he wielded a sword like someone with very little training would, he could swing even the thickest stick, though he usually broke it almost immediately; he fired bon-bons from a slingshot with surprising grace, though they got nowhere, and fired arrows in the general direction of an enemy, whether it was a straw figure or a wobbling marshmallow shield.
He was getting ever so slightly better and braver. Commander Pip was rather pleased and praised him often.
One day, when the sun was particularly merciless, and the smell was causing headaches, dizziness, and fainting among the guards, and even Pip herself was beginning to succumb. She said to Nib: “It is time for you now to go ahead and deal with the monster whose existence threatens our wellbeing. Go, be brave, and remember what I taught you. You can do it!”
Nib nodded but was full of hesitation and doubt. He was small, he was new to the fighting yet he was to face a big danger and win. The fear he felt was nibbling on him. But he decided that, in spite of it, he had to do what was asked of him. To himself, he whispered: “It is time, be brave!”
And so his solitary undertaking started. On day one, he ploughed through a dense forest — ferns kept touching his legs and sometimes he imagined these were the hands of a monster. On day two, he had to climb a mountain that was so slippery that he could only climb it by using his sword as a pickaxe. On day three, he traversed a wide expanse of savannah where wild animals hunted but could easily be scared by shouting and waving hands around. Then day four arrived…
The smell then was particularly strong and Nib himself could barely progress. His steps got smaller and smaller, his strength seemed to shrink, his courage almost wilted. And then, he saw it! He saw it with his own eyes, he smelled it with his own nose. The monster, the culprit, the danger!
In the small valley at his feet he saw the source of the odour — a small, shrivelled, rotting…courgette! It had grown slimy in the time since someone had dropped it there. The smell hit him before he even fully saw it.
Nib, on one side, was glad he did not have to fight, on the other, doubtful about undertaking such an enormous task - the courgette was big, he was tiny. He sat down on the nearby stone and thought. He thought, thought, and thought, and little by little, step by step, minute by minute, a reasonable plan emerged: he would dig a hole, chop the courgette up, or what was left of it, into smaller bits, and with the help of a rope, drag it into the ditch and bury it. The smell would be gone and the courgette would constitute fertiliser for plants and hungry earthworms.
It took him two days to execute the plan and when he did he rested a while under the nearby almond tree. “I have succeeded!” was a shout that escaped his lips. Then he took a moment to think about the kingdom he loved so much and how everyone now could go about their lives as they used to, with smiles on their faces and kind words on their lips. He missed it a little.
On his way back he met the army who progressed to meet him. “Mission accomplished! Now that the smell is gone, we can advance as we please,” said Pip. “You did well, and I would be happy to make you a major in my army,” stated the Commander, but Nib only thanked her and did not think that a soldier’s life agreed with him. “Now we march back home,” she turned on her heel, expecting even the hero to follow. And follow he did.
When they arrived back at the kingdom the place was beyond festive. Every house was decorated with sweets, the fountains no longer spouted water but chocolate, and the children carried little cups with them so they could drink from them whenever they pleased. The castle itself was garlanded with strings of rainbow-coloured hard candy, and a freshly applied layer of coruscating icing sugar covered its roofs and turrets. The castle heaved under one thousand layers of icing, topped with glitter.
When Nib and the army went through the city, the YumYucks leaned out from windows and balconies and threw minute grains of sugar over the triumphant newcomers, cheering and celebrating their return, waving and shouting “May your tooth be sweet!”
Nib was then invited to join the queen on the stage placed in the middle of the main square and was asked to recount his adventure. Everyone grew quiet as he looked out over them, and said: “I am different. I have always been. But I am still part of you all the same. The mission was accomplished and we can all continue the way we were, perhaps with a bit more…variation now.” Crumbella nodded.
The YumYucks stood for a moment in complete silence before, one by one, they took his words into their little melting chocolate hearts whilst the wind swished between them to and fro, carrying the icing sugar with it. Perhaps some got to you already?