A version recorded in 1918 by Dr. Newton K. Murray in his “Appalachian Bulldinky and other Horse Ploppery” was rediscovered recently.
For no good or apparent reason, a Surveyor’s daughter was locked in a basement office and told that she had three days to complete the Certified Payroll or be torn asunder.
The maiden wept and crowed loudly, “Alas, I cannot do this thing, and fear I will be killt. I would give my first-born to have these completed by someone else.”
She was fair and cursed with a stitch in the spine from previous payrolls, and so was sore afeard for her humble and underpaid life. However, almost at the instant of her resigned utterance, a swarthy elf leapt from a deep pit behind her desk. This creature exclaimed:
“I can do yer payroll, lady
But ye must pay my fee
I will have a roasted brew
And it shall be for free.”
The fair daughter thought this was not unreasonable, and so contracted the elf to complete this task. She steeped a pot of Chai tea to keep her self busy, and was soon asleep, dreaming of possible bargains at target.com. The girl awoke to a banging at the door by the local constable who stopped in not infrequently to foul the toilet. She looked in her outbox to find the payroll was printed out and faxed. The constable had a nasty habit of tobacco chewing, which the girl tried to ignore. He reached over the empty tea cup and spit out a nice juicy brown slug.
******
The following day, Surveyor's daughter was commanded to go through the review the billable hours to account for missing Union payroll by the unseen forces she called her "employers." She was to complete this in 24 hours, or her fair head would be lopped from her shoulders.
She teared up and began to wail (not quietly),
“Alas, I canno do this thing, and fear I will be killt. I would give my first-born to have these completed by someone else.”
The elf leapt from the afore-mentioned pit, and calmly suggested that she might refrain from the melodrama, as it hurt his ears to hear it. He exclaimed
“I can find these hidden hours, lady,
But ye must first agree
To bake some cookies Nestle filled
And bring them straight to me”
She could do that.
“No problem, Elfie. In a jif.”
She ran up to the kitchen above and cooked up a batch of the precious treats. The chai tea was soon steeped and she was fast asleep. When she awoke to the constable's “Yo!!" bellowing in her ears, she found the billable hours documented and finished, and an empty Tupperware bowl containing not one crumb. The constable tried to spit in this as well, but she would not have it,
and shooed him from the room, swatting his leathery hand as she locked herself in.
******
The third day she got a call from the all of the insurance companies asking for whatever the hell it was they usually needed. The now boiler-plate threat of death was dangled before her, with some other mind-dullingly uninteresting form of dismemberment offered.
She began the same plaintive wail, “Alas, I cannot do this thing, and fear I will be killt. I would give my first-born to have these ....”
and before she could snort a second time, the elf had leapt before the desk.
“Enough! I get it.” The elf covered his pointy ears.
“You got the part about giving my first born away?”
“Whatever. Don’t really need a baby, but what the heck, I hear they make a nice stew.”
He licked his lips almost imperceptively, as if imagining what spices to sprinkle into the stew. Marjoram was an interesting choice, and he'd always had a special place for cumin. His eyes rolled in a dizzying fashion and his tongue dashed about his lips and nostrils.
The Surveyor's daughter was quite impressed, but feigned indifference, yawning and staring at the tips of her fingers. “So you’ll do it?”
The elf then began a little dance as his grin broadened.
Oh, did I mention he had cute little shoes?
They weren’t easy to dance in, let me tell you.
“I can do yer insurance forms,
And take yer little one,
It’s not as if I need the kid
I’d much prefer some chewing gum”
She found herself sprawled face down across the desk, having fallen asleep again. The constable was leaning in, acutely oblivious to her personal space. The smell of tobacco dip and spit was strong in the air. Then the phone rang. It was the owner of the business.
“Hello, fair maiden. I suppose you can go home now.”
The Surveyor's daughter dabbed at the drool at the corner of her fair mouth. “Really?”
There was a pause, and then," Sure, why not? I’ll expect you at 8.00am sharp.”
The constable had already grabbed a magazine from the waiting area and headed into the crapper. The eruptions were almost palpable in the lobby.
******
Before you could click two fancy little heels together, our maiden was in the delivery room. We shall surmise that she managed to get pregnant in order to get herself put into this position, and that even the paternity was of no great importance to our tale. When the Surveyor's daughter went to get the baby from the nursery, she saw the elf inside, talking to Nurse Dawn the local nurse, and lifting the little knit cap.
“... Ye don't say! Well, which part is the most tender, Nurse?” The elf recalled the diagram of the cow at the butcher shop, labeling the various cuts.
The nurse thought this over and then prodded the infant with a thermometer.
“I’ve always favored the thighs. Look at those meaty little drumsticks!”
The Surveyor’s daughter’s jaw dropped.
“Get away from my baby!” She shrieked. Both heads whipped toward the door, while Nurse Dawn blushed and covered her mouth. The elf was non-plussed.
“I think this is not yer situation to command, Lady. I’ve got a broth going and ye’ve got a deal to keep.”
“I’ll give you anything. Take one of the other kids at my house; they’re both weaned, and corn-fed." She was particularly tired of the girl as she had been quite disrespectful as of late. "Do you need a survey done? My husband can tile your kitchen for you, for just above cost!”
“Hmm, Let me think....hmmm...”
He paused and began to gently dig into his left nostril. Jackpot! There must be two or three good nuggets up there!
“...um..No. Don’t think so. I'm takin’ the kid. Nice working with you, though.”
He reached tenderly into the crib with his unwiped hands.
“...so cute... such a shame, I’m hungrier than I thought."
“There’s nothing?”
The maiden felt the panic rising up the back of her fair neck.
“Well, ya know, there is one thing...for some strange reason; I love it when people guess my name. Don't ask me why, guess I'm just drawn this way.”
“That’s completely f***ed up!” The words ejaculated loudly out before she could hold her sassy tongue. The maiden covered her fair and yet surprisingly foul mouth. The elf only raised his eyebrow in a curious manner, as he had seen Mr. Spock do so often in syndication.
“Isn’t it? Well,
I’ll give ye days numbered three
To guess my name right that’s the deal
With one guess each day to give to me
Or this kid becomes my evening meal.”
Nurse Dawn looked quizzically at the elf, and then spotted his shoes.
“Say, those are nice," said the nurse. "Do they have them in white?”
“Planning on having any more kids, nursy, or would you like to try some other payment plan?”
“Stick a fork in me, I’m done!" She patted her Koga-flattened belly. This thing was finally starting to play like the drum those little buggers had stolen from her. "I love the shoes, don't get me wrong, but they ain't worth my man's wandering eyes."
The elf considered this. “How about a Juicy Fruit gum? I find that delicious stick a tasty treat to die for."
The nurse rummaged around her a room-sized handbag. "All I have is Altoid's. They're curiously strong, don't you know?.” She reached into her pocket. The elf put his crooked hand on her wrist to stop her. He would have none of it.
“Meet me tomorrow at this woman's office. at the long stroke of midnight. If ye bring yer Juicy Fuit, ye shall have your shoes. What are ye, around a 6 ½?”
“You do have a way, don’t you?” The blushing nurse winked at the troll and let her gaze scan his gnarled and ruddy form thoughtfully. She gave a satisfied, "mmmph!" then flung another soiled nappy into the waste bin.
******
The Surveyor’s daughter went back to the office (the baby, and her husband were by this time at home, conveniently enough for this story, which predates TiVo). She tried and tried, but could not imagine what the elf’s name might be. Coming up with nothing, she went to the Target.com and picked out some nice “Holiday” gifts for herself. As the hour approached midnight, she found herself struggling to keep awake. The fair one contented herself with a cup of chai tea that had an exotic tobacco tinge to it. There was a sound at the door. It was Nurse Dawn.
“This place is hard to find.” She shook the snow from her frock and white hat.
“I wouldn’t know” The maiden answered frostily. She kept her eyes on the screen. These bargains were not to be missed. She almost forgot why she was there, when her eyes caught a blur, and something leaped up from below.
“Where’s the gum, Nurse?” The elf stuck out his claw.
The nurse did not miss a beat. “Shoes first.”
He pulled the shoes from beneath his hat.
“Okay, then, together on three. One, two....”
The nurse looked doubtful. “You said white. These are almost pumpkin colored.”
“Ye think it’s easy to read a pantone chart in a dark hole? Take the shoes an be gone! ye ungrateful wench!”
He waved at her threateningly, but did quietly accept the gum that was offered with his outstretched, bewarted arm.
The nurse slowly took the shoes, shrugged and closed the door behind her.
The elf turned toward the maiden. He tapped his fingers on the desk impatiently.
“Hold on, I’m just putting in the shipping address.”
She waved her hand without looking up.
“Do ye have yer guess, or don’t ye? I don’t have all night. Yer early on my evil trade rounds.” He looked at his evil watch.
“Can I have a hint? It’s still a shot in the dark.” She was frantic.
“I’ll give ye two. There are three syllables and it sounds like something ye might blow.”
“Oh, my!” The maiden feigned mock surprise, but was secretly intrigued. She covered her mouth not only for affect, but to cover the smile that was creeping across her lips. She hoped he would not see. She was not so innocent as the term “Surveyor’s daughter” might imply. She had an idea.
“Is your name Saxophone?”
“Is that your final answer? Sure you don’t want to use a lifeline?”
“I’m sure.” She wasn’t, but managed to answer evenly enough. She waited as the elf took a deep breath.
“Oh,” he began, “I’m sorry. Two more nights. See you then.” He did a triple somersault backwards into the pit. The maiden was left alone with her incredible bargains.
******
The second night she asked for another hint. The elf thought about it, dancing gleefully as he chose his words.
“I may know payroll, but I also like to work with what some might call ‘a third leg.’ ”
She was no closer to the truth. While she thought, the elf wandered about the office and came across a container of Mint Milano cookies.
“Do you mind if I help myself?”
“No,” said the Surveyor’s daughter absentmindedly, for the germ of an idea was beginning to form in her mind. Meanwhile, the elf continued to munch on the cookie, spraying food liberally about the room. The particles struck the walls and ceiling with a gentle but increasing thwap.
“Do you have an anthwer?”
“Don’t rush me!”
“Tick, tock, ya don’thttop! I need an anthwer now!”
The percussion increased as though someone had aimed a wood chipper straight into the room. It was getting hard to think, and her nostrils and eyelids were getting clogged and matted.
She blurted out “Is your name Clarinet?” She forgot to cover her mouth and tasted mint and- was that tobacco again? She thought to herself, Damnit! Something is familiar here, but she could not put her finger on it through the growing blob of molten sludge. She had spoken too soon, but at least there was one more night.
“What? That’th the betht you can do? Thaths Horrendouth!”
He wiped the globs of food from his lips.
“Till tomorrow then, fair maiden. And don’t forget the child, or I thall be forthed to come and fetch the thoup thtock mythelf.”
He reached in for another Mint Milano and inhaled deeply as he chewed, his eyes closing in delight. When he was done chewing, he wiped again, and with a triple summy with a double toe lutz, he was gone.
The peace officer burst in through the door. “Did I hear something?”
“No. It was just something I had for lunch.” The Surveyor’s daughter had an idea. “Can you be here tomorrow night, around the same time?”
The constable nodded and looked down at the vile film covering floor. He shrugged, scratched himself, and headed off to the toilet.
******
The third night, she had a bundle in a bassinet, and sat at the desk, quietly waiting. The game of solitaire was going exceedingly well.
“Ye missed the four of diamonds, lass.” She didn’t turn at the voice of the elf. In a low voice, she said, slowly,“Don’t tell me what to do, you bastard!”
“Yer’re sounding awfully feisty tonight, maiden. I see ye brought yer baby. Well, I’ve got the pressure cooker in the trunk of my carriage. Time for yer last, and probably incorrect guess. Do ye need a clue?”
The surveyor’s daughter glanced at the clock before turning slowly toward the elf. “No, elf, I don’t think I do need a clue from the likes of you.” She stared him straight in the eye and declared confidently, “Your name is Thwithle.” The eyes of the elf grew wide.
“How could ye have known that? Where have ye heard that name before?”
“It was simple. Have another cookie, Thwithle”
The elf, angry as he was, was no match for Mint Milanos. He took a bite, and stared down at the cookie, accusingly.
“Oh, I thee. Thith thcrumpthiouth delight hath uncovered my thecret identity. Curtheth!” By now there was an even film of cookie remnants scattered about the room, like freshly fallen snow on a newly frozen pond. The elf turned his eyes, as well as his trajectory, toward the bassinet. The Surveyor’s daughter waited, calmly.
“Thince the broth ith already thimmering, I thee no reathon why I thouldn’t take thith child, ath ye were very eager to give it away when ye made the deal.” He made no effort to hide the lisp now, as the time for disguises was done.
“That doesn’t matter, as I have correctly guessed your name. Begone, Thwithle, and darken our doorstep no more.” The elf rushed toward the bassinet and scooped up the bundle. He began an intricate and subtle dance in those delightful shoes. He was better than one might have expected, considering his skill in eating cookies.
At that very moment, that very instant, the police officer rushed through the door, and ordered the elf to stop. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but he knew if he brought the elf in for questioning, he could pinch a loaf at the station house. The constable's momentum at entering the room caused him to slide on the cookie mulch and he slipped, firing a single slug into the chest of the elf as he tumbled into the goo. The maiden shrieked, not so much out of terror, but more because that was her thing.
“It doethn’t matter,” cried Thwithle, “bulleth cannot hurt me!”
But it was a lie, one he had told so often, he had forgotten that detail and begun to believe himself. All that was over, now. The bullet had gone clean through, and bits of cookie mulch were beginning to drip into the gaping wound.
The elf began to shrink into the wound as well. It was as if the bullet had opened a portal into another dimension, one whiched pulled the creature roughly into itself. The elf grew smaller and smaller, and soon there was nothing left but the excellent shoes. All around the boots the remaining cookie bits drifted silently to the floor.
The constable lifted himself heavily from the frothy goo, and tried on the shoes. They fit to a tee. These bucks might look quite sharp with his uniform, he thought to himself. They were sure to give him a lot of credibility on the boulevard.
He headed off to the bathroom with a fresh spring in his step. In a moment the maiden could hear the comforting yet nauseating sounds of intestinal expulsion and splashing water through the wall. She quit her game of solitaire, quickbooks, and turned off the computer.
The Surveyor’s daughter got up slowly and went over to the decoy bundle to unwrap it. It was empty except for some faxes with certified payroll requests marked by a single hole through the center. She had left the baby with the father, just in case. It had probably pooped a few times already, she was glad to have that handled without needing her. This was no place for a child at this time of night. She squeegeed the cookie film into the pit, and wouldn't you know it, when it was all swept in and cured, there was not a trace of the hole that had been there these many days.
She locked up the office and headed to Target. The payroll would have to wait till tomorrow.
