RUTHIE. Prisoners?
PAPA. Slaves. And each of us had different tasks.
RUTHIE. Giant-related tasks?
PAPA. Yes. Some of us had to prepare the giant’s meals. Other of us had to make him clothes.
RUTHIE. Clothes! For a giant? I imagine even the simplest shirt would take some time to make. Quite some time.
PAPA. Yes. And they didn’t want simple shirts, either. Giants are snobs, Ruthie. They want to wear the finest ornaments.
RUTHIE. What was your task?
PAPA. (he shudders) I was in charge of filing and cleaning nails.
RUTHIE. Fingernails?
PAPA. I only wish it were so, Ruthie. (he shudders) Oh! They all have athlete’s foot.
Ruthie is about to ask him more questions when, all of a sudden, she notices some little critter sneaking up behind Papa.
RUTHIE. Papa! Watch out! Behind you!
But it’s too late. The paunchy-bellied critter has Papa noosed with a rope.
PAPA. Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!
The little critter yanks on the rope and leads him away.
PAPA. Ow! Ow! Ow!
RUTHIE. Now you hold on there, creature! You leave my papa alone!
LITTLE CRITTER. Zee ma zo ne fa!
The little critter flashes its chompers.
But what does Ruthie care about being bitten?
She runs up to the little critter--but no: she CHARGES at him, more like it.
LITTLE CRITTER. (flashing its chompers) Zee ma zo ne fa!
She raises a mighty fist in the air and…!
THUMP!
The little critter is surprisingly easy to knock out.
PAPA. (choking) Ghgggghgh!
RUTHIE. (undoing the rope) We have to get out, Papa! You’re a hunted man!
PAPA. Oh, Ruthie…. (he rubs his sore neck) Where could we possibly go? We have to get home, my girl. We have to get home. But how do we do it?
RUTHIE. I know somebody who might be able to help us! We have to try, Papa. We have to.
And of course she means The Gnome.
What an awful, desperate situation! To have to rely on The Gnome! Oh! What an awful, desperate situation!
8.
On the way back to The Gnome, Ruthie explains what she’s learned so far: about the little colored hefty bags of coins, about having to take an airship home, about making money in these parts, about the weather, about the peoples and critters that populate the market.
She seems wise and perceptive, and not for a lack of trying either; she wants Papa to be impressed. She’s only been here for such a short amount of time, and already she...blah, blah, blah. That’s what Ruthie wants him to think. She already knows about blah, and has already formed opinions about bleh.
Halfway through explaining everything, though, her stomach betrays her. It interrupts her with its giant gurgles and growlings.
PAPA. When was the last time you ate, sweet girl?
And with that, the illusion is burst to pieces. BUBBLE POP! Ruthie’s not a smart girl after all. She can’t take care of herself.
RUTHIE. Oh. I suppose I haven’t.
PAPA. You haven’t eaten a thing?
RUTHIE. Not since I got here, no.
Her father’s horrified by this piece of news. And of course he is. In his younger days, he labored much to get toddler Ruthie to eat her Brussels sprouts. He cares about her nutrition. He cares deeply about it. If she’s not eating--BAH! That’s horrible! If she’s not eating, she’s dying. (Which she always is anyway, “but not if Papa can help it.”)
PAPA. (pointing to a food stall) They’re selling hot buns over there. If you distract them for me, I can snatch us a few.
His stomach gurgles and growls as well.
RUTHIE. But, Papa! That’s not fair. It’s not good to steal. That’s not fair.
PAPA. Well I don’t think it’s fair that you and I are stuck over here.
RUTHIE. But, Papa….
PAPA. Just do as I say, Ruthie! Go on and talk to the man. Look at how busy he is. He’s both baker and cook. And merchant, too. He barely has any time to look up and accept those little red sacks. Look how busy he is. In fact, stay here, girl. I don’t even need a distraction. Stay here.
RUTHIE. But Papa!
Papa rushes over to the food stall. He slyly scoops up as many buns as he can. Little does he know, though, how hot they are.
PAPA. YOOOOOWWWW! Ow! Hot! Hot! Ow!
He wants to drop them. Oh! How wants to drop them! But he holds on.
PAPA. Ow! Ow!
With all of his hollering, of course he’s gotten the merchant’s attention. As Papa tries to run away, the merchant drops everything and chases him.
PAPA. Ow! Ow!
MERCHANT. Jaho bo la no sei, hama!
One of the buns seems like it’s about to bounce out of his arms.
Rather than sacrificing it to the ground, Papa bends down and bites on it and carries it in his mouth. It’s so hot, though, tears pour out of his eyes.
PAPA. Mmmmm!!!
Papa runs right past Ruthie.
RUTHIE. Oh, Papa! You’re making us humans acquire such a horrible reputation!
The merchant doesn’t seem ready to give up the chase. Papa’s hurting. He’ll have blisters all over his hands….
Even though she doesn’t want to, Ruthie needs to help him. She needs to.
As the merchant’s just about to pass her by, Ruthie sticks her foot out and trips him.
The poor little critter SMASHES to the ground.
Ruthie feels as though she’s about to commit some horrifically unethical deed. She doesn’t want to do it. No, she doesn’t. But Papa…! She’d do anything for him. Yes, she would even compromise her morals.
She raises a mighty fist in the air and…!
THUMP!
The merchant is surprisingly easy to knock out.
Papa returns with the buns.
PAPA. Mmm! Mmm! MMMMMMMM!
RUTHIE. (holding her shirt out like a tarp) Here, Papa. Put them in here.
Papa drops the buns into Ruthie’s shirt. He opens his mouth and out comes that little steaming one, too.
He feels immediate relief.
PAPA. (with hands shaking) Owwwww!
RUTHIE. Oh, Papa! Why did you do all of that? Look at your hands! They’re red and they have boils all over them! Oh, Papa!
PAPA. We need to eat, girl. I did what had to be done.
RUTHIE. Let’s take some to The Gnome.
PAPA. What?! No, no, no, no. All of my efforts aren’t going to that…thing! That stupid thing that’s mistreated you so bad.
RUTHIE. Last time I spoke with him...well, we didn’t end on the greatest of terms, Papa. I’m sure he’s hungry, too. He’ll appreciate a bun or three.
PAPA. Three?! But there’s only six! Well, five-and-a-half; I don’t suppose we can give him that bun right there I slobbered all over. (he points to the gloppy bun)
RUTHIE. We need his help, Papa.
PAPA. I don’t think he’ll have much help to give. You said he doesn’t even speak the local language.
RUTHIE. No. He speaks English just like we do. He’s the only one I’ve met so far. It’s a curious thing, isn’t it? It makes you wonder if he’s--
PAPA. --slyer than you think. There aren’t any gnomes in our country, lass. (he wags his finger) Don’t be fooled. There’s never been one in all of Elderberry. Check every nook--you’ll never find one.
As they’re talking, Ruthie notices some commotion in the distance.
RUTHIE. But look, Papa! Look! He’s right over there!
And, indeed, The Gnome is over there. He’s tall as he’s never been, standing on his cart; yes, he’s high up above a frenzied crowd. He’s yelling and hollering about something. Probably about goods being for sale.
He’s rocking the beach umbrella side to side to draw even more attention.
PAPA. You said he was an abysmal salesman.
RUTHIE. And he is. Hmm. How strange. Hmm. Papa?
PAPA. Yes, Ruthie?
RUTHIE. Please stay here. I’m going to go over and have a talk with him.
PAPA. I don’t think he’ll be very inclined to talk. Not when he’s having such success. Just look at how wild that crowd is!
RUTHIE. I’m patient. I can wait.
Ruthie goes over to The Gnome. She still plans to offer him one or three buns.
Luckily, by the time she gets close enough, the crowd heaves a tremendous sigh and disperses. This isn’t because Ruthie’s food reeks or anything like that. It’s because The Gnome just so happens to run out of goods.
He looks positively delighted. There are dozens upon dozens of little silver bags surrounding him.
RUTHIE. Mr. Gnome!
THE GNOME. (getting down from his cart) BAH! What do you want?
RUTHIE. Mr. Gnome! I’m here to offer you some buns.
THE GNOME. Hmm. I suppose I can-- (taking one) --ow! Ow! Ow! It’s hot! (putting it back into her outstretched shirt) You wretched girl!
RUTHIE. I’m sorry about that. Let’s wait a while so they can cool off. (she blows on them)
THE GNOME. (he sucks on his finger) I don’t have “a while” to wait! I have to capitalize on my success! You’re in my way. Get! Get! Shoo! Go away!
RUTHIE. But how did you do it, sir? It’s only been an hour since I’ve left you!
THE GNOME. And already I’ve made my fortune! It only goes to show how much you were slowing me down. You’re an impediment, girl. So get! Get! Go! Impediment shoo!
RUTHIE. But…how?! Are you still selling your thoughts, Mr. Gnome? The very same ones? Or is there some new trick you’re using?
THE GNOME. No trick, girl. Just my good ol’ thoughts. (he knocks on his noggin) The very same ones you disparaged.
Ruthie doesn’t believe it. She can’t.
She remembers that The Gnome can’t sell all of his goods. He has to leave a certain amount, lest he loses his brains. Well he isn’t trapped in a coma like he was earlier. That means he must have some left.
She pokes her head into his cart.
THE GNOME. Get away from there!
RUTHIE. Hey! What’s this?!
THE GNOME. That’s none of your business.
RUTHIE. But it is my business! It looks just like me!
She lets go of her shirt and all of the buns drop to the ground.
She reaches towards one of the rosy figurines.
RUTHIE. It looks just like me!
THE GNOME. I think not! (trying to snatch it away)
RUTHIE. (holding it away from him) You carved this from one your thoughts?
THE GNOME. Give it back!
RUTHIE. You’re a quick craftsman, Mr. Gnome. I won’t deny you that. But I never gave you permission to use my image.
THE GNOME. I don’t need your permission!
RUTHIE. Sure you do, sir.
THE GNOME. HA! Oh, yeah? And why’s that?
RUTHIE. You’ll forget what I look like. Not now you won’t. But eventually you will. Your figurines will stop selling.
THE GNOME. As long as I keep one around, I can always copy it.
RUTHIE. They’ll be lifeless. You know they will.
THE GNOME. So what? I don’t plan to do this for very long! I just need enough money to get back home. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.
RUTHIE. To get back home?
That’s all Ruthie wants, too.
THE GNOME. Yes, you stupid girl! It’s been years and years that I’ve been trapped over here! Years! I came as a boy.
RUTHIE. As a boy?! Oh my!
THE GNOME. Yes! And look how terribly I’ve aged, girl! The air here does funny things to you. (he tugs on his skin) So don’t be so self-sure and condescending, girl. I didn’t always have this nose! (he flicks his nose)
RUTHIE. Oh!
THE GNOME. I looked just like you once! Just like you! (he flicks his nose again)
RUTHIE. You’re lying!
THE GNOME. I’m eager to go home. That’s what I am!
RUTHIE. But Mr. Gnome! My father and I are trapped here as well.
THE GNOME. And? What’s that to me?
RUTHIE. Half of that money belongs to us.
THE GNOME. HA!
RUTHIE. It does, Mr. Gnome! You’re using my image!
THE GNOME. Get away! Get away! (he takes out his little knife) Shoo, impediment! Shoo!
RUTHIE. Mr. Gnome! Have a heart! I’ve helped you so much. You’re still even using the beach umbrella I bought you. Mr. Gnome, you wouldn’t have made it here without my help. Have a heart!
THE GNOME. BAH!
RUTHIE. Look at how you hesitate, Mr. Gnome! Sir! You would never stab me! You have too much of a heart!
THE GNOME. BAH! Come any closer and we’ll test your theory! We’ll make your theory science! (he jabs the air)
And Ruthie actually has enough guts to do it. She moves in mighty close to The Gnome.
THE GNOME. BAH!
RUTHIE. Oh! I knew it, Mr. Gnome! I knew it! You’re too kind.
He doesn’t stab her.
Glad--overjoyed, in fact--Ruthie can’t help herself; she kisses The Gnome right on the nose.
He is so shocked by this, his face loses all of its color. He looks as though he’s about to faint.
RUTHIE. Thank you, Mr. Gnome! Thank you for helping my family out!
She’s thanking him in advance, of course. A sly one, this Ruthie.
THE GNOME. …oh!
Suddenly, it looks like there’s something terribly wrong with The Gnome.
RUTHIE. Mr. Gnome! Are you all right?
THE GNOME. …oh!
First, it starts with his feet. Then it moves up his legs, up his tummy, up his neck, and all over his face.
He begins to crystalize!
RUTHIE. Oh!
Before long, The Gnome is no longer “Mr. Gnome.” He’s a giant golden statue.
RUTHIE. Oh!
Papa rushes up to her. He’s seen everything from afar.
PAPA. You’re brilliant, Ruthie! Absolutely brilliant! Already you’ve picked up some wicked magic spells! Brilliant!
RUTHIE. …but!
PAPA. Just make sure to keep those smackers away from me! HA! HA! HA! HA!
RUTHIE. …but!
PAPA. Here’s our ticket home, Ruthie. (he knocks on the golden statue with his knuckles) We need to find out how much it costs for each of us. And then we sell this thing off. We sell it at such a high price, it’s guaranteed to cover the airfare. (he knocks on the golden statue) Here’s our t
icket home, Ruthie!
RUTHIE. …but!
It’s a horrible situation for Ruthie. She feels so bad for The Gnome. So bad! Instead of selling him off to the highest bidder, she wants to find him a cure. She wants to turn him back. The Gnome doesn’t deserve such a horrific fate. Is he still alive? Can he still feel? Is he still thinking underneath all that shining, sparking, dazzling, dazzling, expensive metal? The Gnome doesn’t deserve such a horrific fate.
But Papa is being hunted down. They want him to slave the rest of his days away cleaning giants’ feet.