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» Smurf Forum » I made a short illustrated smurf story. (Page 7)
Author Topic: I made a short illustrated smurf story.
Smurf in Hand
Smurf
Member # 1431

Member Rated:
2
Icon 1 posted 12-26-2008 09:17 PM      Profile for Smurf in Hand       Edit/Delete Post 
Space Harrier Brainy, don't ever feel guilty about not reading my story previously. There is only so much any of us can purview in our sparse, free time and to be quite honest I'm not much of an online story reader myself.

I am pleased though to know that you are enjoying the story thus far. The entertainment of others is my aim. I will not always succeed in this but hopefully I’ll gradually build a rapport with my readers that will allow me to improve.

Thank you for your kind words!

Posts: 106 | From: In transit | Registered: Jul 2006
Smurf in Hand
Smurf
Member # 1431

Member Rated:
2
Icon 1 posted 12-26-2008 09:18 PM      Profile for Smurf in Hand       Edit/Delete Post 
Squeaky,
I love your two new adopted baby smurfs!

Posts: 106 | From: In transit | Registered: Jul 2006
Smurf in Hand
Smurf
Member # 1431

Member Rated:
2
Icon 1 posted 12-26-2008 09:44 PM      Profile for Smurf in Hand       Edit/Delete Post 
I was spending yet another happy afternoon playing with and helping to care for the baby smurfs at the Blue Moon Nursery. Sitting down on the carpeted floor I produced a book as a couple of the curious infants approached, one crawling and the other scooting along on its rump, squeaking for me to pick them up. They were Pom-pom and Strawberry. A baby smurf possessed two common methods of locomotion, it could crawl on all fours or it could sit upright and scoot itself along for short distances. Strawberry in particular preferred scooting about the playroom floor on her little rear end.

“Who wants to hear a story?” I asked in a friendly singsong voice.
The two tiny blue infants waved their tiny arms and piped up, squeaking eagerly.

Strawberry and Pom-pom loved to sit huddled together in my lap and gaze attentively up at me, their soft, warm blue tails quivering with joy as I read to them from a baby storybook. The simple little creatures probably barely understood most of what I read, but the colorful pictures and the rhythm of my voice as I spoke softly to them in “motherese” alone was sufficient to soothe and delight the wee critters. I’d even given the two sweet little smurflings their own miniature, organic cloth pretend books with non-toxic dye so that they could “read along” with me. Sometimes I’d see the little dears holding those wordless play- books and squeaking in cute intonations as if they were actually reading them in their best imitation of me!

 -

When I prepared to leave for home I cuddled each of the soft, warm, tiny blue babes for a goodly amount of time, giving Strawberry’s responsive tail a series of gentle tickling flicks. I gave Pom-pom’s “tail” a gentle squeeze as well. The bulbous, fluid filled sac beneath his posterior’s skin had eventually been filled with a synthetic gelatin, providing the delightfully soft and squishy consistency of a genuine smurf’s tail. Though the pleasurable sensation of a true smurf’s tail would always be absent Pom-pom still appreciated the affection on an emotional level. To him at least he had “some sort of a tail” for his cradle mates to grasp onto and kind humans to stroke. Tucking them snugly into their cradle I fluffed their adorable little non-allergenic pillows for them to rest their weary heads. I promised to visit them first thing tomorrow morning. Luckily I had been able to schedule another volunteer visit for early the next day since it was a weekend and the two baby smurfs and I would have another wonderful day, or so I had thought…

 -

It was early morning after the one and only night that our security guard couldn’t make it due to mysterious car troubles. Blueberry had fallen asleep in my coat pocket during the hour-long drive.
I pulled into my parking place and pushed the intercom button outside the front door to identify myself and be buzzed inside.

There was no answer so I tried again, and again. I thought perhaps the nurse was in the powder room so I patiently waited for a few minutes before repeating.

Still no answer and now I was worried. Without the guard the nurse had spent the night alone in the nursery with the baby smurfs. Since I was only a volunteer, even though a very trusted one I still couldn’t be issued a key. I thought about calling one of the other nurses or my lady friend who lived in town to let me in and investigate, but before I could dial a number I saw a car roll into the parking lot. It was the stern weekend day nurse reporting for her shift. I told her there had been no answer and she let us both in with her key.

The nursery was eerily silent as we split off to locate the night nurse. I repeatedly called out for the nurse by name as I walked down the main corridor and was answered by a thump and a cry of my name from within the broom closet.

“Get me out of here! The babies are in danger!”

I unlocked the closet and the night nurse burst out, running down the hall in a frenzy and into the smurfs’ playroom. I followed her closely behind with growing alarm, mindful of my adopted baby smurf still nestled in my pocket. He was now awake and I could feel him shifting about and stretching with a baby smurf yawn that was little more than a soft, tiny peep.

We located all but two of the little baby smurfs cowering in nooks about the nursery playroom. The poor incontinent Runt had wet herself hours ago and most of the other poor little blue infants were terribly overdue for a diaper change. We couldn’t however locate Strawberry or Pom-pom, and after an hour of searching the nursery we came to the chilling conclusion they’d been smurfnapped by whoever had shoved the night nurse from behind and locked her in the closet while putting something away. The nurse had heard the wee ones’ panicked cries, unable to come to their aid. The police were phoned and within the half hour the nurses and I made our statements in turn in the front office, all the while trying to calm and clean the traumatized baby smurfs as the these new strangers investigated the nursery, particularly the closet and playroom. Blueberry was especially sensitive and picking up on the mood of the other smurflings and noting the absence of Strawberry and Pom-pom started whining anxiously.

Over the next three days the mood was very tense at the nursery and humans and smurfs alike were affected. The poor little smurfling Runt started crying day and night from tummy cramps and after checking and rechecking her diaper throughout the day and it was surmised that the creature’s insides weren’t “moving”. One of the nurses handed me a little bowl of smurfberry pudding with something added to help the wee one get back to “normal”. Unfortunately the smurfberry’s flavor could not entirely mask the disagreeable taste of the “special” additive. Anything that didn’t taste like those sweet berries from the smurfs’ fabled shrubs was simply unpalatable to the fussy little creatures’ hypersensitive taste buds. I had the unpleasant but necessary task of force-feeding the tiny blue infant this special concoction several times a day. The little thing frequently gagged and almost choked as I tried to get it down its throat without any spit-ups. The baby smurf would kick and squirm in her highchair as I held her tiny mouth shut until she had no choice but to swallow. I’d have to cuddle the wee babe and stroke its tail for quite a while in order to calm it after each feeding. The poor, confused little thing couldn’t understand why I was forcing her to eat that “yucky stuff” and she soon stopped whining whenever she was hungry. No matter how badly the hunger pains gnawed at her little tummy she dreaded eating more of that pudding. Around regularly scheduled mealtimes when all the nursery’s smurf babies were fed regardless of appetite the teensy Runt would try to crawl off and hide from the caretakers and me. The slow, clumsy, naïve smurfling’s pathetic efforts to elude us were to no avail and we’d always find her within minutes cowering and peeking out from between her tiny blue fingers. This was not a game of peek-a-boo either of us anticipated with joy.

 -

On the fourth day the night nurse and myself were called into the police station for a follow up in the investigation.

Since there didn’t yet exist any statutes clearly defining a smurf’s sentience or rights the police had to treat the matter mainly as a case of burglary and “animal theft”. If ever caught the perpetrator would get more jail time for simply locking the nurse in the closet than for any atrocities committed against our beloved smurflings.

“Earlier this morning our cyber specialist located these video clips hosted on a server somewhere outside the country. It had been already accessed several hundred times before he was able to hack the site and take it down. While the server may not be local we have reason to believe that the video clip itself was shot and uploaded not more than a 2-3 hours drive from your nursery.”

The nurse and I sat in silent apprehension.

“I have to warn you, the subject matter is very disturbing but we need at least one of you to identify the victims in order to proceed with the investigation.”

The detective opened a file on the computer desktop and the movie snippet filled the screen and began to play.

I watched the video clip in horror, nothing could have prepared me for what we were about to witness.

There were Pom-pom and Strawberry.

Pom-pom’s darling little hat with its fluffy blue pom-pom sewed on was in mistakable.
The terrified little blue infants each were hog-tied and dangling in midair, crying their little hearts out. Strawberry’s adorable little pink pj’s with the words “Lil’ Miracle” printed on them were torn off and lay on a rough looking workbench below.
Occasionally we’d hear a man’s coarse laughter between our beloved smurflings’ tortured sobs.

Seeing from the video how much the two baby smurfs’ diapers sagged told me that they’d been unpleasantly sodden and soiled for a very long time, perhaps for a day or even longer.

Poor little Pom-pom flushed miserably as his ersatz tail was ridiculed. The cruel man jabbed at it with his finger.
“What’s with your misshapen tail, you deformed little blue freak!?” His masked captor sneered in a digitally disguised voice.

Then the helpless smurfling’s soft, tender, bulbous little blue noses and tails, which they so loved to have caressed at the nursery, were each viciously pinched, jerked and twisted repeatedly. A smurf’s nose was tender enough but there was nothing so sensitive as a smurf’s bulbous tail. I blanched at those tied smurflings’ sharp, frenetic screeches of pain. They were like nothing I’d ever before heard and I would rather have gone permanently deaf than to hear those poor, suffering, tiny blue infant creatures’ shrill outbursts of unmitigated agony.

 -

In the next scene they howled as each was taken in turn by their floppy round smurf ears, which were also were given a series of merciless wrenches and twists.

 -

Strawberry was then untied and allowed to fall. The diapered smurfling’s posterior hit the workbench with an audible wet and squishy sounding “plop”. The diaper was yanked off, as the tiny blue infant was pinned face down on the workbench’s nicked and greasy surface. The man’s other hand came back into view brandishing what appeared to be a short section of flexible plastic track for toy cars. As Pom-pom dangled above he stop crying and gaped in abject disbelief as Strawberry was slapped repeatedly on the rear with the length of track. The Lilliputian infant’s face contorted and went purple as it yelped with each sharp, resounding “smack”. The shocked, soggy and sobbing Pom-pom was untied and dealt with next. The poor smurfling thrashed and screamed wildly as it was spanked. When it was over the two stunned and exhausted little creatures lay face down, sobbing breathlessly. Their tender, plump little blue bottoms were covered in reddish welts.

 -

Neither of the tiny blue creatures had ever been remotely treated like this before and they couldn’t believe this was really happening to them. Strawberry especially had never experienced any real pain in all her sweet young life, nor had any human ever abused her and the shock of this nightmarish cruelty after being so mollycoddled at the Blue Moon Nursery threatened to destroy her fragile psyche.

From off camera their tormentor’s raucous laughter eclipsed Strawberry’s and Pom-poms plaintive mewling.

In a later part of the clip Pom-pom had been grabbed and was being dunked headfirst into a pail of water. He was held halfway under as he writhed wildly. I could see his legs kicking frantically in the air and his bruised and swollen smurf tail’s panicked quivering. The diminutive baby creature was powerless in its torturer’s grasp and was mercilessly immersed for intolerably long periods of time. Upon the brink of drowning the suffering little infant would be brought up only long enough to have any water squeezed from its aching little lungs and to take a couple desperate gasps of air before being shoved back under water.

 -

I simply had to turn away from another awful sight of the final clip, but not before I saw someone’s hands unscrew a bottle of hot pepper sauce and deliberately rub it into helpless Strawberry’s delicate, moist little eyes using a cotton swab. I was the same type of swab we would use to gently clean the baby smurfs’ big, soft, floppy ears during their bath time. Her piercing shrieks exploded from the computer’s speakers and froze my blood. Periodically these terrible scenes were brightly illuminated by the brief flicker of what must have been a camera’s flash.

 -

What sort of depraved beast would do something like this to an innocent, loveable little baby smurf?! I found the very idea of deriving amusement from intentionally hurting such a precious, magical being inconceivable. This reminder that some of us “humans” possessed such a capacity for wanton cruelty made me positively ill with shame and revulsion.

I heard a sniffle beside me. Instinctively I took out my handkerchief and without looking placed it into the nurse’s hands. The lady had only to blot away a single tear before regaining her composure.

“We’ll find them.” I tried to reassure her, “We’ll get our babies home.”
I wished I believed it myself…

I didn’t look forward to bedtime that night. I stayed up into the small hours of the night until I was exhausted enough to fall asleep immediately. Those images of Strawberry and Pom-pom would haunt me relentlessly whenever I lay awake in the dark.

(continued in next post due to image count posting restraints)

Posts: 106 | From: In transit | Registered: Jul 2006
Smurf in Hand
Smurf
Member # 1431

Member Rated:
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Icon 1 posted 12-26-2008 09:45 PM      Profile for Smurf in Hand       Edit/Delete Post 
As it would turn out the next night I would be visited by a member of SMURF hardliners, a small secretive group of smurfs and humans who in the past had made headlines with their more “proactive” methods of protecting smurfs’ rights. Though I didn’t exactly have a direct line to their cell, I had left an urgent message for Tattlerette. The smurfette had no “official” ties to SMURF’s more radical arm, but the message was somehow passed along and they had learned of our dilemma.

Presently I heard a soft tapping on my bedroom window and looking out I saw a Smurf!
I was positive that he was the adult smurf whom I’d aided in escape from the municipal shelter. I leaped up and opened the window to let him climb in. Instead of the traditional white pants and hat he wore an urban camouflaged knit bodysuit and hat. Slung across his back was a canister of pepper spray with a special trigger to fit a smurf’s hands. No doubt this was used to repel cats and terriers, and… probably people too.

 -

“I want to thank you for smurfing me that paperclip” He said in his tiny voice.

“I wish I could have done more for you.” I replied ruefully.

“We know about your smurfnapped babies. We also have their possible location smurfed within a very small radius. We’ll try making a move tonight but before I go I could use your phone.”

“Of course!” I hurriedly grabbed the cordless phone and set it down beside him. Blueberry was snoring away amidst this whole interchange. I don’t know what the smurf said but within minutes a car pulled up into my driveway. The smurf waved goodbye and hopped out the window. Moments later the car, himself and his no doubt human accomplice were gone. I closed and locked the window and lay on my side, gazing at Blueberry in his tiny cradle. I wouldn’t sleep tonight…

Posts: 106 | From: In transit | Registered: Jul 2006
Raven Child
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Icon 1 posted 12-27-2008 02:54 AM      Profile for Raven Child   Author's Homepage   Send New Private Message       Edit/Delete Post 
Wow, awesome... can't wait for the next chapter. Doing really great with these illustrations too. [Wink]

--------------------
"The Raven Child" website: http://www.theravenchild.com/


"Tales of Mytherwrel" facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/TalesOfMytherwrel

Posts: 1276 | From: Canada | Registered: Jan 2005
Squeaky Smurf
Hering Smurf
Member # 2416

Member Rated:
5
Icon 1 posted 12-27-2008 10:48 AM      Profile for Squeaky Smurf   Author's Homepage  Squeaky Smurf's Figurine Checklist      Edit/Delete Post 
Your story is getting more and more thrilling, Smurf in Hand! Poor little Smurf babies, in the hands of a human monster! [Frown] And all your pictures leave nothing to be desired too, very amazing! The GIF effect you gave the two sleeping babies and the urban guerrilla Smurf are great! [Graduate Smurf]

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Keep on always smurfin'!!

Posts: 4903 | From: Rio de Janeiro, Brazil | Registered: Jul 2008
Smurf in Hand
Smurf
Member # 1431

Member Rated:
2
Icon 1 posted 12-27-2008 08:59 PM      Profile for Smurf in Hand       Edit/Delete Post 
Thanks for the comments.

I have a technical question though. Do some of my images look either elongated or squat (especially the last one with Strawberry laying down, does she look too long and skinny in the body)? After my last computer crash I've noticed that my paint programs cannot make a perfect square. What I mean is that if I rotate the square 90 degrees it becomes a slightly tall rectangle, but returns to square shape once rotated back to its original position. Adjusting the monitor's vertical size had no effect on this phenomenon. Hopefully it's something simply that I'll be slapping myself for not realizing [Wink]

Posts: 106 | From: In transit | Registered: Jul 2006
Raven Child
Moderator
Member # 795

Member Rated:
5
Icon 1 posted 12-27-2008 09:39 PM      Profile for Raven Child   Author's Homepage   Send New Private Message       Edit/Delete Post 
Your images seem to be alright with me. I know about these computer problems...I myself need a computer guy over here to fix up my good computer...because I'm tired of having to use this slow system to do my artworks on [Razz]

Keep up the great work. though. Your art is indeed getting better with the more you do. [Wink]

--------------------
"The Raven Child" website: http://www.theravenchild.com/


"Tales of Mytherwrel" facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/TalesOfMytherwrel

Posts: 1276 | From: Canada | Registered: Jan 2005
Vega
Smurf
Member # 1321

Member Rated:
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Icon 1 posted 12-28-2008 02:47 PM      Profile for Vega       Edit/Delete Post 
Wow. I`m really impressed by that chapter. Very thrilling. I can`t even imagine the fear of those two baby smurfs. I wonder if their psyche will be put together after all this. Great chapter, i`m waiting for more [Smile]

P.S. Your pics look OK i can`t see anything wrong with them.

Best regards.

Posts: 483 | From: Poland | Registered: Mar 2006
Ruffette
sammylurvesyou
Member # 2646

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Icon 1 posted 12-30-2008 01:35 PM      Profile for Ruffette       Edit/Delete Post 
wow the baby smurf is so cute!

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Ben eats bunnies...

Posts: 447 | From: windsor ontario canada | Registered: Dec 2008
Squeaky Smurf
Hering Smurf
Member # 2416

Member Rated:
5
Icon 12 posted 12-30-2008 05:37 PM      Profile for Squeaky Smurf   Author's Homepage  Squeaky Smurf's Figurine Checklist      Edit/Delete Post 
As I told before, here's a photo of my Baby Smurfs - surrounded with my Smurf collection.
 -
Pity it got unfocused. I must have calculated it (very) badly! [Embarrassed]
Before I forget, Smurf in Hand: I think your pictures look very proportional. [Cool]

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Keep on always smurfin'!!

Posts: 4903 | From: Rio de Janeiro, Brazil | Registered: Jul 2008
xxsmurfatheartxx
Smurfling
Member # 2666

Rate Member
Icon 1 posted 01-13-2009 01:10 PM      Profile for xxsmurfatheartxx       Edit/Delete Post 
that is so cute!!!!!!!!!! ur really talented!! [Wink]

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smurf lover <33

Posts: 18 | From: Smurf Village | Registered: Jan 2009
Smurf in Hand
Smurf
Member # 1431

Member Rated:
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Icon 1 posted 01-26-2009 12:48 AM      Profile for Smurf in Hand       Edit/Delete Post 
Thank you xxsmurfatheartxx =)
**************************************************
As I lay awake that night awaiting news from the S.M.U.R.F. militants my thoughts drifted back to those video clips I’d seen of Pom-pom and Strawberry imprisoned and abused by that pitiless ogre.

Simply the idea of that disgusting fiend rudely disrobing our precious baby smurfs and sullying their naked little bodies with his rough filthy hands made me seethe. In the video clips I had been able to see the revulsion and discomfort reflected in the eyes of the man’s tiny blue captives. The smurflings would visibly shrink away from the wicked human’s violating leers and flinch at the touch of his coarse fingers on their delicate bare cerulean flesh. Baby smurfs by nature were innocent beings and not typically “body conscious” around their peers or familiar, kindly stewards, be they smurf or human. My own baby Blueberry in fact often romped and rolled about, squealing with unabashed delight, sky clad save for his little smurf cap whilst I cradled him in my hands or lap. We at the nursery always treated our beloved little charges’ bare bodies, especially their “private” places, with the utmost reverence. Bath time in particular was a magical time for caretaker and cherished smurfling alike, with much squeaking and giggling as we caringly scrubbed the little ones’ soft skin with extra soft and sterile disposable little sponges.

Click here for a bigger Smurf Picture!

The S.M.U.R.F. activists had eventually pinpointed the I.P. address signatures left by the smurfnapper’s transmissions to a cul-de-sac where a run-down abandoned house lay. They accurately surmised that this was a likely place to hide the captives and picking the front door lock they entered stealthily. Searching the house they found no trace of the man who’d taken the smurflings but when they broke down the double-bolted door to the basement their luck changed.

When the Smurf's Rights guerillas finally found our two missing smurflings in that dark basement they were greeted by a most horrific sight. The wee babes were stripped naked on a greasy, splinter-ridden workbench in the cold, damp air. Their cute little pajamas and hats were nowhere to be found. Pom-pom’s ribcage was crushed between the jaws of a pipe wrench as he strained for breath while Strawberry had curled herself into a little ball nearby, but facing away from her nursery mate. Both the creatures’ magical little hearts were glowing, but this phenomenon was much different than the joyous one I’d once witnessed when Blueberry miraculously healed Dewdrop. Rather than the healthy golden light, a sickly greenish aura had materialized around the precious baby smurf hearts. Lastly, a thin, jagged vertical fissure had split each heart down the middle.

Had Pom-pom remained pinioned betwixt the brutal jaws of that pipe wrench for a few more hours the poor baby smurf’s arms would become too tired to lift and its tightly constricted, tiny lungs would surely have given out. Pom-pom’s toes were bruised from the weight of the hard metal wrench sitting on them. His little knees were swollen and ached at the slightest flexing, causing him to burst into tears each time the rescuers attempted to loosen them up. His spindly legs were painfully cramped and several days passed before the brutalized, wee blue babe would even crawl again. Perhaps worst of all was the state of his prosthetic tail. While mashed in the jagged metal teeth of the wrench the little gelatin filled sack, which gave Pom-pom’s tail its shape had ruptured and the gel leaked out. The poor smurfling was left with a flattened and shriveled length of blue flesh that flopped limply about like a deflated balloon. The destruction yet again of this little creature’s prized appendage had a devastating effect upon his psyche and I knew that we would need to have the prosthesis beneath his skin surgically replaced as soon as his other injuries healed.

Those last few hours before their rescue had played like a dark, eternal nightmare for the two blue waifs where time slowed to a snail’s pace.

Strawberry had gaped and whined in horror as she was forced to behold the harrowing spectacle of the cruel man clamping Pom-pom’s soft little naked body in the toothed metal jaws of a pipe wrench. The fiend forcibly folded Pom-pom’s little legs up so than his knees pressed into his chest and screwed the wrench closed until the baby smurf’s ribcage was nearly crushed. Each merciless turn of the wrench’s screw forced a sharp, agonized squeak from the pinioned baby smurf’s lips. Pom-pom now had to lift his scrawny blue arms each time to draw a short, tortured breath. With an ugly chortle the man remarked that he’d return later, positioned an activated web camera on a tripod aimed at Pom-pom and Strawberry, and then left the basement.

Strawberry tried frantically but hadn’t the strength to loosen pipe wrench, nor did the tiny creature know quite how anyway. Unable to help Pom-pom the little smurfling gave up in tears. There was no way for her to climb down from the workbench either and a sheer drop to the cement floor below would have splintered most of her delicate smurf bones.
Trapped on the workbench, with the horrid sounds of Pom-pom’s agonized rasping breath and the sight of his contorted, sweaty, tear-streaked little face was just too much for Strawberry. The distraught, terrified, naked baby smurf eventually gave up. She curled herself into the trembling little “smurfball” position that distressed baby smurfs instinctively assumed and began keening at a heart-rending pitch. At that moment both their tiny hearts were “shattered”, and though the simple creatures could not grasp the concept of death, they sensed they were nearing a “dark place” from which they would never return.

It wasn’t until five hours later that their liberators discovered them…

Click here for a bigger Smurf Picture!

One of the human activists was so enraged by the brutality he’d witnessed that he wanted to plant a ‘surprise’ triggered by a thin wire midway down the stairs for when the smurfnapper returned ‘home’. Cooler heads prevailed and they instead called in the location of the house via 911 before slipping away. Within the half- hour the cul-de-sac was ablaze with the flashes of red and blue police lights. Unbeknownst to the activists and only later discovered by the police was the warning system the smurfnapper had installed. At several locations in the dark house there has been hidden tiny microphones linked to a laptop computer in the attic. In absentia the wily smurfnapper had been able to monitor whatever input came into that laptop over the Internet. Thus forewarned, the man would never return to the house now, and had a booby trap been left for him it would have instead triggered against the first innocent person to descend those stairs.

Police were unable to find any fingerprints, any clues on the old laptop or pin down where it was transmitting. The house had been abandoned for some time and none of the neighbors had witnessed anything unusual. The smurfnapper might as well have been a ghost. Even if this had been a crime involving a human victim all the investigative effort and legal power in the world would have been futile in finding this cunning fiend. As it was this was merely the case, albeit an extreme one, of “animal cruelty”. The resources allotted to such an investigation would be paltry. As for the S.M.U.R.F. hardliners, the later realization that they’d been outsmarted, despite the successful rescue was a blow to their moral. Some of them even theorized that the smurfnapper might have deliberately left an Internet trail for them to follow and had set the entire awful scene up for them to find.

Before dawn I was called at home and instructed by a smurfettes voice to drive to the nursery immediately. When I reached the parking lot I was at last confronted by the cell of S.M.U.R.F. hardliners.

They were an intimidating lot.
The group consisted of several salty looking men, women, and smurfs. In addition to the four humans there was one smurfette and three adult male smurfs including the one I’d helped escape from the municipal shelter.

I was overwhelmed with relief at what they brought, and Blueberry popped his head out of my jacket pocket and squeaked excitedly, waving his spindly blue arms.

Click for bigger Smurf picture

Pom-pom and Strawberry were clothed in spare generic organic cotton pajamas and had been freshly cleaned, diapered and fed with vitamin and electrolyte enriched instant smurfberry juice and dinky little smurfberry energy bars.

A special unguent, made by the matriarchs or patriarchs of smurf villages had been spread on the baby smurfs’ many cuts and contusions. A more liberal amount of the smurfs’ anti-microbial, healing salve also had been applied to Pom-pom’s and Strawberry’s entire diaper areas, for their bestial captor had forced them to endure nearly two days wearing the same wet, filled diapers. Diaper rash was endemic with baby smurfs whose caretakers did not heed the rule of keeping their charges’ wee, plump little blue bottoms dry. Any longer than a few hours in an unchanged diaper ran the risk of a smurfling’s vulnerable skin contracting such a rash. This particular region of poor Strawberry and Pom-pom’s flesh was now so raw and irritated that it would be nearly a week before it healed. Once the painful welts from the spankings subsided both Strawberry and Pom-pom would be scooting on their rumps around the nursery playroom’s hypoallergenic carpet more as a way to scratch their itchy rears than of going anywhere in particular, squeaking most irritably and occasionally pitching fits from the frustration of this relentless discomfort.

Click for bigger Smurf picture

As a balm to their little blue souls the wee magical infants had also each been furnished with cuddly, plush “emergency comfort dolls” bearing the reassuring likeness of an adult smurf. The dolls’ tails were even filled with a gelatin that emulated the squashy feel of a real tail and were proportionally larger. The exaggerated tails’ size, a symbol of soothing pleasure to a baby smurf, could be more easily grasped by the wee blue infant’s maladroit, chubby little fingers. A distressed baby smurf could squeeze the doll’s tail to bring some relief to its own anxiety. It was a vicarious experience for the little smurfling, as if in “comforting” the doll it’s own responsive tail was being gently squeezed.

The hardliners’ sensitivity to the delicate elfin infants’ basic physical and emotional needs and their imaginative stopgap measures to meet them impressed me. Pom-pom’s stubby little fingers were wrapped around the thumb of the adult smurf embracing him. He was the one I’d helped escape from the municipal shelter and whose activist codename was “Paperclip”. Both smurflings started squeaking in a distinctive pattern when they saw me, a plaintive look in their big round eyes. As he listened, Blueberry’s face slowly shifted from joy, to comprehension, and then to dismay. He began blubbering.

“What are they saying?” I inquired concernedly as I gazed at my beloved little blue infant friends while gently patting my crying Blueberry on his little head and letting him hug my finger.

The Smurfette tenderly holding Strawberry answered, her eyes glittering dangerously with anger as she spoke.
“They’re saying, in baby smurf talk that “he hurt me, he hurt me, he hurt me…”

Click for bigger Smurf picture

Some of the hardliners were of half a mind not to even return the smurfnapped babies to us, unimpressed with our failure to safeguard them from harm.

I pleaded with them to allow us to bring Strawberry and Pom-pom back to our nursery. I stately truthfully that no better day-to-day care for the high-maintenance little blue infants existed anywhere outside of a smurf village, and that all the known smurf villages were already strained to capacity trying to care for orphaned baby smurfs. I pointed out that their activist cell likely didn’t posses the stabile environment nor the many resources, both material and “human” that were required to truly keep the wee little blue infants healthy and happy.

The smurfette’s voice was filled with reproach and I hung my head in humility.
“Nevertheless, see that you DO smurf better measures to insure these baby smurfs’ security or we may have no choice in the future but to ‘liberate’ them from your nursery’s care… and I mean ALL of them!”

It took no convincing on my part that these she was deadly serious, and if they decided to could swiftly and deftly confiscate all the tiny inhabitants of the Blue Moon Nursery no matter how the nurses and I would try to thwart them…

****************************************************************

In a few days time Pom-pom’s and Strawberry’s tails and noses were no longer too sore to be touched if done carefully. Despite the added expense the Blue Moon Nursery hired an extra licensed caretaker just to stand by during the twelve-hour night shift. Her sole duty was to cuddle, speak in a gentle reassuring voice to, and stroke the wee ones’ little tails and noses whenever they awoke screaming from the frequent night terrors spawned by their recent ordeal until they settled down. It typically required nearly and hour of undivided attention from the caretaker to ease the emotionally vulnerable little baby creatures before tucking them back into their electric auto-rocking cradle.

This procedure wasn’t effective with Pom-pom’s deflated tail as the poor creature longed for it to be “filled out” again. Eventually the nurse decided only to caress and squeeze Pom-pom’s bulbous smurf nose in lieu of his “tail” because the self conscious little tyke merely cried with grief every time he felt someone touch it its pathetic, flaccid remains.

The S.M.U.R.F. hardliners had informed me that because of the repeated near-drowning they had been subjected to the two smurfling waifs had acquired a phobia of water, even if only an inch deep. For now on the nurses would have to give them sponge baths, wetting and rinsing the sponges at the sink because even the sight of a full water bucket would fill the whiny diminutive beings with trepidation. Their days of merry giggling and squeaking as they splashed about in little basins with floating bath toys and bubbles were over. I hoped not forever.

Despite the relief I felt from the return of Pom-pom and Strawberry to their nursery home there was one detail about the crime scene I learned of that would stick in my heart forever:

The S.M.U.R.F. hardliners had not searched the basement extensively. Shortly after they had located our missing smurflings these activists carried them to an awaiting van where the smurfette and others fed, cleaned, and clothed the two distressed blue infants as they drove. Later, when the police conducted a more thorough search of the basement someone found the tiny, months-old bones of a baby smurf skeleton in the interior of a grimy old pizza box in one of the workbench’s bottom drawers.

The baby smurf had been bashful runty male named “Snickers”, which had been reported missing from a pet store six months ago. Beside its picked-over bones there was an adoption ad clipping with a picture of it smiling and hiding under his “security blankey”. That same tattered little blanket was found threaded irreverently though the skull bone’s eye sockets beside its moldy smurf hat

************************************************************************

Click for bigger Smurf picture

That night, after tucking Blueberry into bed I had to tenderly squeeze and knead the sniveling creature’s tail for nearly an hour before he stopped whining. I then patiently waited until I heard the peaceful rhythm of his tiny snores. Getting up, I quietly walked out into the back yard and gazed solemnly up into the starry night sky. Rivulets of salty tears began streaming down my cheeks as I wept for Snickers, a precious baby smurf whose joyful little squeaks would never again enchant this world…

Click for bigger Smurf picture

Posts: 106 | From: In transit | Registered: Jul 2006
Raven Child
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Icon 1 posted 01-26-2009 11:34 AM      Profile for Raven Child   Author's Homepage   Send New Private Message       Edit/Delete Post 
Awe, the poor little smurflings. I'm glad Pom Pom and Strawberry are back to where it is safe. you did a great job on the smurf and smurfette that rescued them. [Big Grin] but poor Snickers... wonder if anyone will catches these cruel people that are torturing these little guys to death. [Frown]

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"The Raven Child" website: http://www.theravenchild.com/


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Posts: 1276 | From: Canada | Registered: Jan 2005
Squeaky Smurf
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Icon 1 posted 01-26-2009 09:15 PM      Profile for Squeaky Smurf   Author's Homepage  Squeaky Smurf's Figurine Checklist      Edit/Delete Post 
I must confess that I wept as I was finishing reading this chapter, Smurf in Hand... Fortunately Pom-pom and Strawberry were saved about time... And what to say regarding little Snickers' fate... If captured, that sadistic pervert should take a big dose of his own medicine. [Frown] Your technique is getting sophisticated more and more, and I LOVE the pic with Blueberry blinking his tears back and wagging his soft and plump tail. [Enamored Smurf]

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Keep on always smurfin'!!

Posts: 4903 | From: Rio de Janeiro, Brazil | Registered: Jul 2008
Kojinka Sketchette
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Icon 1 posted 01-26-2009 11:46 PM      Profile for Kojinka Sketchette       Edit/Delete Post 
Poor little Snickers. Why?
 -
The torture of baby Smurfs is like killing kittens. It's disgusting, and heartbreaking.

I hope that cruel man gets caught and raped in prison for what he did.

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The village nutcase.

Posts: 214 | From: EVERYWHERE | Registered: Jun 2008
Cool Smurf
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Icon 1 posted 01-27-2009 07:46 AM      Profile for Cool Smurf       Edit/Delete Post 
I feel so sorry for the poor baby Smurfs, especially Snickers.
Whomever did this should be severely tortured himself.

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RozStaw57 DeviantArt

Posts: 963 | From: Jacksonville, Florida | Registered: Feb 2006
Smurf in Hand
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Icon 1 posted 01-27-2009 08:55 PM      Profile for Smurf in Hand       Edit/Delete Post 
Much thanks to those that read this chapter and commented.
It was an especially poignant chapter and hard to read at some points, I know.
Trying to evoke emotion for a character that doesn’t exist and make people really care about its fate is one of my goals.

Things will get lighter hearted in the upcoming chapter. Blueberry will apply his heart-healing powers to Pom-pom and Strawberry as he did to Dewdrop. It won’t be a complete mend, but things will improve a bit. Also, I’ll have a surprise. A tiny baby smurf only a few hours old, just newly delivered by the stork. This is a concept a friend of mine actually came up with and the details are his invention.

And Squeaky, be assured that whenever I draw and write things like this more than one tear hits the keyboard.

Once again, thanks to all who read this. When things improve it will be all the more rewarding for you =)

Posts: 106 | From: In transit | Registered: Jul 2006
Smurf in Hand
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Icon 1 posted 03-03-2009 07:46 PM      Profile for Smurf in Hand       Edit/Delete Post 
A Tiny Miracle

1. Special delivery

The days grew shorter as winter approached and I reported for a Saturday morning volunteer shift in the twilight of pre-dawn. This day marked the fourth week since the rescue of Pom-pom and Strawberry, who remained horribly traumatized with no sign of abatement and continued to live in isolation, especially Pom-pom. We still hadn’t the funds to repair his smurf tail and the tiny, self-conscious creature gradually sank into a deep depression. If anything the two smurflings were getting worse, withdrawing more into themselves with every passing day. It was a cause of alarm for us, we’d heard tales of these emotionally fragile baby creatures eventually dying of a broken heart and spirit.

Halfway through my trip to the Blue Moon Nursery, as Blueberry slept cozily in my overcoat pocket, wrapped in a tiny sleeping bag like a little blue burrito, I caught a glimpse of a lone bird in the sky. The avian flyer seemed to be headed in the same general direction as I. By the time I’d made it into town and had to stop at an intersection the creature was flying lower and I got a good look as it soared overhead.

I didn’t know my birds all that well, with the exception of owls. I never let Blueberry play outside in the backyard after dark because of them. Ornithologists would occasionally discover owl pellets containing the indigestible remains of a smurf or even baby smurf.

By the bird’s silhouette I initially thought it might be a pelican. It was a plausible guess being the town was situated near the coast. When I arrived at the Blue Moon a nurse came outside to meet me and noted the bird circling overhead.

As the bird swooped down and landed next to us in the parking lot I realized that what I’d previously thought to be the capacious underbelly of a pelican’s beak was in fact a bundled white neckerchief clamped in the beak of a large male stork.

The nurse and I stood stock still as the bird approached us, or more specifically me, its payload gently swinging like a tiny hammock. Somehow the intent of the flying being seemed readily apparent to me, and I knelt before it, cupped hands outstretched. The stork stood vigilantly before us after he’d lowered the white bundle into my awaiting hands. I carefully unfolded the white, organic cotton kerchief. Blueberry popped his head out of my pocket, and the smurfling, the nurse and I gaped speechless as the tiny blue treasure within was revealed.

A “newborn” baby smurf!
The creature’s silky skin was a lighter blue than that of older babies, and it was so little that even the Runt would have dwarfed it. It lay sleeping and naked except for a singularly tiny smurf cap pulled snugly onto its little head. Although the nurse and I had to peer very closely at the minute creature’s front “didey area” we concurred that it was a male.

Blueberry gasped as he spied a never before seen feature on the new smurfling belly, a heart shaped birthmark.

No one knows where or how baby smurfs actually come into being, or who folds those handkerchiefs, or places those first tiny smurf caps upon their wee blue heads. This was especially true for those few magical ones that would stay babies forever. It’s been theorized that those enchanted ones are created for the sole purpose of being something to be loved and cherished. This may very well be one of those, but that a stork would ever deliver any such dear being to a human was unprecedented.

Gingerly I placed the dormant “newborn” baby smurf in my bare but warm palm, it felt so soft and fragile I marveled that the teeny thing didn’t just fall apart when I touched it.
I looked toward the stork with questioning eyes. The great fowl merely chirped once and flew off. I guess we had our answer; the wee tender thing was “ours”.

Going inside and walking cautiously, I followed the nurse toward the infirmary’s small, never used, neo-natal room. As we tiptoed through the silent nursery room the lady beckoned to the surprised caretaker watching over the cradle of sleeping babes. Reaching the infirmary, I carefully held the sleeping miracle in my hand and patted Blueberry’s head with the other while the two women began preparing the baby smurf incubator for its new resident. We turned our heads at a soft little squeak as the tiny creature suddenly stirred in my hand. Blueberry whined quietly with awe as we watched the newly stork-delivered baby smurf slowly awaken for the very first time in this world. The nurse explained that its eyes would not actually open for another 24 hours. The blind creature instinctively reached up with its spindly arms and peeped expectantly. I placed my index finger before his tiny blue mug and the smurfling found it, grasping either side of my fingertip with his incredibly miniscule hands. At that moment my heart overflowed with the most profound adoration.

My perceptive Blueberry was the only baby smurf we could trust with the privilege of getting such a close look at this tiny wonder during its most frail initial state. He alone knew better than to poke and prod at the blue pygmy’s heart shaped “birthmark” despite his conspicuous curiosity toward it. Nor would the understanding smurfling go for a squeeze at the little “newborn’s” darling tail or nose. Especially the nose, if grasped prematurely, risked an interruption in the creature’s fragile respiratory system that could cascade into total collapse within minutes, ending the tiny thing’s life before it even tasted its first smurfberry.

Baby smurfs, when delivered to a smurf village, must always be carefully shielded from toxins, infections, temperature anomalies, loud noises, and physical trauma by the magic of the village’s patriarch or matriarch during their most vulnerable first weeks.

I marveled at the singular opportunity I had been blessed with. I could have held that wee little miracle until the end of time and be happy, but I had to carefully hand it over to the nurses. There would be time to fawn over the sweet thing later. The nurse carefully placed it in the baby smurf incubator and prepared a sterile eyedropper of warm, pasteurized smurfberry juice. As one nurse closely monitored the wispy blue infant another snatched a book off the shelf and rifled through it. She’d thought she’d never actually need: “From Delivery to Diapers, Special Care Manual for ‘Newborn’ Baby Smurfs!”

Click here for a bigger Smurf pic!

2. Making Ends Meet

I was carefully sorting and folding dried smurf diapers in neat stacks according to their owner.
Some of the baby smurfs, like Blueberry and Strawberry had personalized diapers with colorful prints that they often wore. This certainly made extra work for us as we had to wash them separately from the plain ones but we didn’t usually mind. The wee smurflings looked so adorable in them and hearing their gleeful squeaks and giggles as they saw us exchanging their plain dirty plain diaper with one of their favorite printed dideys was ample compensation.

The specialized but necessary care afforded the baby smurfs at the Blue Moon Nursery was costly and we occasionally ran into the red. While outsiders were almost never permitted to enter the babies’ living area we had started a small gift shop selling post cards, t-shirts, bumper stickers, buttons, and even dvd’s (which though quite expensive sold surprisingly well) featuring our baby smurfs with the nursery moniker. Along with these purchases a small pamphlet was always bagged. This informative tract was provided courtesy of S.M.U.R.F. and was meant to raise general awareness amongst humans, that baby smurfs were indeed the young of sentient beings, not some full grown, strange hairless lemur. It also told about the general plight of smurfs and orphaned baby smurfs in captivity, where some were physically abused, given inadequate food and emotional support, or even exploited in ways too revolting for me to describe. The vice police however uncovered evidence of such exploitation from time to time on underground websites.

Also highlighted was how the Blue Moon Nursery protected and met these magical blue infants’ special needs. Included was a menu of a few of the sumptuous smurfberry dishes the pampered little ones were regularly served. Printed on the backside of the pamphlets was a picture of a caged baby smurf whose fate is unknown. Its expression and posture would have garnered sympathy from the most hard-hearted person. Above its plaintive tiny blue face read the caption “peez help meee!” This was where the pamphlet segued into the advertisement for our most lucrative fundraising method, the “Adopt a Baby Smurf” sponsorship program.

The adorable appearance of the little blue creatures greatly endeared themselves to many people and we’d eventually set up a program where individuals or businesses could sponsor “their own” baby smurf. Each sponsor initially received a life-sized plush doll bearing the approximate likeness of the particular baby smurf they’d chosen dressed in a genuine organic cotton baby smurf diaper previously actually once used by their chosen “adoptee” beneath its adorable hat and pajamas. Each month a letter with a photo and a brief update on the smurfling’s activities was mailed to those who pledged a certain sum of money per month. Currently every little smurf in the nursery had at least one benefactor who adored them from afar. The darling little smurfling Runt had gained over two dozen sponsors/fans since she’d been given sanctuary at our nursery. These funds themselves were pooled for the benefit of all the blue Lilliputian babes. For exceptionally large donations, in addition to hanging a plague in honor of the generous soul in the nursery they would receive a short DVD video each month highlighting their favorite baby smurf’s antics and care.

Subscribers were overwhelmingly fond of the magical bath time videos, which was always a special bonding experience between nurse and smurf. I myself always looked foreword to bathing my little baby Blueberry. The tactile sensation of the bubbly, elfin infant’s bare blue skin as I held it in the bath basin and caressed it with a tiny, organic loofah sponge was a religious experience.

Sometimes we’d also send a copy of a finger painting done by the smurf baby. The whole arrangement facilitated a one-way vicarious relationship for the sponsors toward their little beneficiaries.

 -

Caring for the nursery’s tiny new delivery was going to run us over well over our present budget, so we placed ads in the local papers announcing this wondrous new arrival in order to garner more badly needed donations. A cute, quarter-page photo of him was featured, showing off his adorable heart shaped birthmark. The portrait of this sweet diminutive blue skinned creature quickly ensnared a gaggle of new sponsors. The teensy-weensy, wee little doll with its heart shaped birthmark awarded to the “new born” creature’s backers was to die for. Its tiny little smurf cap and one of the actual baby’s authentic, previously worn diapers, was absolutely precious. In our online store we had a live video feed on the “newborn’s” incubator, while announcing the great moment had finally arrived, the baby smurf’s first diaper being filled. An auction to become the first sponsor of the tiny miracle ensued. Presenting the winning bidder with her prize the next day, she actually blinked away a tear of sentiment when she first held that tiny scrap of organic cotton as she reflected on the fact it had once tenderly enfolded the fragile smurfling’s nether region and faithfully absorbed his “widdle messy”.

Click here for a bigger Smurf pic!

Nearly everyone it seemed wanted to chip in to help out this irresistibly cute little wonder.

NEARLY…


3. Hate Mail

During the week of the advertisement campaign the Blue Moon Nursery secretary had discovered an email containing disturbing images sent to our inbox.
The first was a malicious, digitally manipulated image involving the newspaper picture of the “new born” smurf and a “small animal guillotine” like the one I’d heard was sometimes used for euthanasia in the laboratory near where I lived, the one Blueberry was nearly delivered to so long ago.

Seeing the image of such a sacred, innocent little being’s twisted in such a stomach-turning manner boiled my blood.

Click here for a bigger Smurf pic!

It was obvious this harassing e-mail’s author was none other than the demented smurfnapper who’d so recently sullied the nursery’s inner sanctum with his presence.
Along with that abominable fabrication were several more horrifying photographs of Pom-pom and Strawberry while they were his captives. Lastly, at the bottom was a shocking image of what I recognized as the baby smurf “Snickers”, or more accurately Snickers’ corpse. The ravaged smurfling’s nude body was suspended upside down from a string. A few inches further up the string was knotted around his well-chewed baby pacifier. The ill-fated baby smurf had been teething when he was abducted. When the police discovered his skeletal remains there had been a single, teensy baby-smurf tooth amongst the bones, dislodged from the skull. Snickers’ microscopic incisor had born a telling pattern of scratches on the enamel, the kind of marks a pair of needle nose pliers would make…

Beneath this photo was a taunting caption in the smurfnapper’s meandering scrawls

“Even during his final death throes the bashful little blue rodent was trying to cover his 'shame'. It was the funniest thing I've ever seen, HAHAHAHA!”

 -

I hurriedly shut off the computer monitor and turned my head. I’d almost put my fist through the monitor CRT as a flood of emotions welled up. I’d never before seen a smurf’s corpse. Within hours a deceased smurf’s skin gradually fades from its vibrant blue hue to a dismal gray.

The secretary and I suddenly shifted our attention to my coat pocket. “Blueberry!” I thought frantically “He woke up and I didn’t notice!” My adopted blue Lilliputian baby had wriggled itself out of its burrito-sized sleeping bag and was curiously peering out of my coat pocket, eyes wide as saucers. His tiny fingers gripped the pocket rim as if frozen as his bulbous little blue nose hung just over edge, appearing for all the world like the ubiquitous cartoon character “Kilroy”.

Too shocked to look away, Blueberry had been transfixed by the email images like a deer caught in car headlights, even after the monitor was off he couldn’t tear his gaze away. I hastily pushed his little head down out of sight, crumpling his smurf cap in the process. Once the dinky tyke could no longer see the computer monitor, its paralytic spell on him was broken. There was only one reaction to those awful visions one could expect from a baby smurf. In the snug confines of my coat pocket’s interior Blueberry tightly curled into a trembling little “smurfball” and began wailing at an ear-splitting pitch. He cried himself hoarse, flinching when I gently poked at the soft, plump round tail poking through the hole in the seat of his PJ’s. There was nothing I could do but wait for the sensitive being to eventually calm down on its own.

I dearly wished Blueberry and I had never glimpsed those images; the aching pain in my heart for that ruined, innocent little baby Snickers flared up anew.
I vowed that if by some twist of fate this murdering fiend should fall into my hands I would not turn him over to the police, but to the S.M.U.R.F. guerillas, where justice would be sure and swift.


The following afternoon I’d alerted the police and S.M.U.R.F. about the email, hoping the meandering scrawl of the sender’s handwriting would provide a clue as to his identity. Activist “Paper Clip” replied the next day by email and explained that after their analysis they determined the message had not actually been written by hand, but with a widely available fractal based program designed to simulate the subtle vagaries of hand written letters. The wording of the diminutive blue bipedal guerilla’s email betrayed his distress at the digital image of Snickers’ hanging corpse, despite his attempt of professional detachment. Who wouldn’t have been moved, especially an adult smurf?


4. The Runt and Nurse Soames

Click here for a bigger Smurf pic!

The stress of recent events and the little runt’s previous accident continued to have a profoundly detriment upon her touchy gastro-intestinal tract. Unfortunately she wasn’t responding to the foul tasting medicine for her rather painful “problem”, each day leaving in her diaper such tough and measly deposits that we became quite concerned. More drastic measures were indicated. On Saturday morning Ms. Soames, the particularly insensitive weekend nurse, was determined once and for all to cure the tiny smurfling’s sluggish innards. Nurse Soames plucked the dinky blue infant out of a corner as it hid cowering behind a smiling smurf’s-head pillow, grasping it in its wee four-fingered hands like a shield. As the nurse hauled the petrified creature to the infirmary I followed in tow, I wanted to ease the wee blue patient’s fears. Soames deftly stripped the petrified Runt naked, save for her little pink hat. As soon as the being’s plump little bare bottom made contact with the chilly stainless steel exam table it yipped and commenced to shiver. I tried to calm her by stroking her quavering little tail. The confused baby smurf looked on with apprehension at the strange and ominous looking collection of medical paraphernalia Nurse Soames was bringing out of an overhead cupboard and arranging neatly on a sterile tray right beside it. The nurse then re-positioned a table-mounted magnifying glass above the runt. The runt gazed up through the lens, trembling at the Nurse’s gigantically magnified visage.

“I’m sorry, precious little angel,” I said as I gave the hapless blue patient’s tail a final little squeeze. The puzzled, shivering and naked runt looked to me for reassurance as I backed away, reaching out with its twiggy arms and whining for me not to leave.

Feeling squeamish I had to turn away, unable to witness the impending invasive procedure and left the infirmary at the nurse’s orders. While departing I winced as I heard a string of startled high-pitched baby-smurf squeaks, followed a few seconds later followed by unhappy little groans of discomfort and blubbering.

The other baby smurfs’ keen, floppy round ears had picked up the runt’s distressful noises and ceased their play, casting me many a worried, anxious glance. Ever since the harrowing experience of having their happy little sanctuary invaded by that vile smurfnapper and watching petrified as two of their own were spirited away, every nursery smurfling sat on the edge of unease, starting at the slightest untoward noise.

The nursery’s smurflings gathered round me for comfort, my Blueberry included, squeaking and whining with consternation on their tiny faces every time they heard the Runt resume its frightened and discomfited squealing from beyond those metal doors. I’d become engaged in trying to calm the tiny cerulean-skinned beings, dutifully caressing those ever receptive bubble-wrap shaped organs of bare flesh poking out through the little designated holes in the seats of their cute organic cotton pajamas.

The blue hands of the playroom’s single smurf-faced clock ticked off the passage of a quarter, then a half, and then one full hour. Finally, I felt a gust of air when the infirmary doors flew open, startling the wee babes gathered in my lap, as Ms. Soames entered strode into the nursery room with the now rather shaken and humiliated runt grasped firmly in hand.

“That ought to do it!” she proudly proclaimed as she unceremoniously plopped the freshly diapered smurfling back down onto the thick, carpeted floor. Grimacing and blushing, the pitiable little creature keeled over onto its side, crossing its arms over its stomach and groaning miserably.

“There’ll be some residual abdominal spasms, can’t be helped I’m afraid. These babies’ digestive tracts are just too touchy.”

I spent the next couple hours trying to pacify the discomfited runt. I gently rolled the tiny blue infant onto its back and with one finger I began petting its little cartilaginous protuberance of a nose. Soames had pinned the new diaper too tightly onto the runt, the pressure on its sore tummy soon made the little thing start kicking and wailing. I unfastened the pin to loosen it, then with one finger I pulled the front of the diminutive creature’s diaper partway down and gingerly massaged the lower quadrants of the suffering smurfling’s painfully cramped belly…

Click here for a bigger Smurf pic!


5. Blueberry's second miracle

Blueberry had begun to experience nightmares himself and was more fretful than usual ever since he inadvertently saw those torture pictures on the computer.

For the first time ever I was permitted to volunteer for the night shift to assist the other nurses at the Blue Moon Nursery. There were three of them altogether; The temp nurse whose job was to console the traumatized Strawberry and Pom-pom, the one who attended and cared for the fragile "newborn" laying in the baby smurf incubator, and the general head nurse. I'd brought Blueberry with me of course. Pom-pom and Strawberry were morose, fretful and lethargic. The nursery staff feared for the wee ones' well being as the blue babes slowly wasted away despite the intensive care they were receiving. When their precious, enchanted hearts had broken before the shocked eyes of the S.M.U.R.F. guerillas they'd feared that it would take more than hot smurfberry soup and being tucked in a warm, quiet place with all their favorite little stuffed toys to save the sensitive Lilliputian infants.

At around 1:00 am Pom-pom and Strawberry began to whimper and writhe in their troubled sleep. They were having another nightmare. The whimpering and fretful squeaks of the tiny blue infants slowly rose in volume until they awoke as
one, in tiny heart-rending screams of terror. The two babes were kept in a separate, soundproofed convalescent room at the nursery lest they alarm the other blue skinned pygmy young with their frequent nocturnal lamentations. Nevertheless the Runt, still traumatized from her own misadventure in the dryer, would whine and sob often, somehow able to sense their distress.


In the main hallway hung a framed, larger than life photograph of each baby smurf the nursery had ever taken in. Blueberry, who had always seemed to posses a bit more acumen than his diminutive peers, awoke and began to squeak insistently for attention. Picking my teensy smurfling up I cuddled its soft pajama-clad body gingerly, petting its little flesh bulb of a nose as I looked into its big round eyes. "What is it, Blueberry?" I asked quizzically as he continued squeaking. Blueberry waved his tiny, ungainly arms toward the wall with the photographs. The next couple of minutes played out like a game of "hot and cold" as the little creature led me to three photographs and made a hugging gesture. The pattern of the little squeaks and the gawky but distinctive arm movements were reminiscent of the day when he'd first met Dewdrop, and the miracle I'd witnessed of Blueberry's glowing, healing heart. After explaining to the nurses what we intended a cradle large enough for several smurflings was brought into the "Quiet Room". In it were carefully placed the tiny delicate bodies of the depressed Pom-pom and Strawberry, the disturbed Runt, and Blueberry.

Blueberry squeaked something in baby smurf-talk and the four wee babes snuggled side-by-side, linking their soft skinny arms and holding hands. The temp Nurse and I watched in wonder as Blueberry closed his eyes and his blessed wee heart began to radiate with a golden light. The other three baby smurfs began to calm and soon each of their hearts appeared to mend as they too visibly glowed. They engaged in a chorus of soft squeaks and sighs as their tears finally dried upon their cherubic little blue cheeks. Within a few minutes the miraculous smurf hearts once again faded back into the sweet blue infants' chests as they descended into a deep slumber. At least for the remainder of this night no bad dreams would plague the four little nursery mates. The healing had finally begun...

Click here for a bigger Smurf pic!


*Acknowledgements*

An acquaintance of mine who’s a particularly gifted writer has been following my work and shared with me some ideas of his own. You can thank him for the idea of an extra teeny-tiny “new born” baby smurf and all its endearing characteristics and special needs, save for the birthmark, which was my inspiration.

While the sponsorship program is my invention, the concept of having a gift shop and the very idea of having fundraising schemes to cover the operational costs of the Blue Moon Nursery are his ideas, most of his details are quite extensive and could be a chapter in their own right. Only a tiny fraction of them are mentioned here. He’s even conceived an exciting story outline involving an exciting media gala to raise funds where the darling blue babies trade their traditional pajamas and hats for cute little engineers’ outfits and ride around on a little outdoor model railroad!


*Note*

For some reason beyond my knowledge the final image, the animated GIF, keeps getting corrupted, its visual quality suffering as a result. This is one reason why I included the original sized still image as well. Due to memory constraints I made the animated image smaller.

Posts: 106 | From: In transit | Registered: Jul 2006
Smurf in Hand
Smurf
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Icon 1 posted 03-03-2009 07:49 PM      Profile for Smurf in Hand       Edit/Delete Post 
The GIF version:

Click here for a bigger Smurf pic!

Posts: 106 | From: In transit | Registered: Jul 2006
Raven Child
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Icon 1 posted 03-03-2009 08:54 PM      Profile for Raven Child   Author's Homepage   Send New Private Message       Edit/Delete Post 
Awe, love the image of all four smurflings and their beating hearts.

Your story about poor Snickers was very heart-felt. [Frown]

Keep up the great work! [Smile]

--------------------
"The Raven Child" website: http://www.theravenchild.com/


"Tales of Mytherwrel" facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/TalesOfMytherwrel

Posts: 1276 | From: Canada | Registered: Jan 2005
Smurf in Hand
Smurf
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Icon 1 posted 03-03-2009 09:51 PM      Profile for Smurf in Hand       Edit/Delete Post 
Wow Raven Child, you certainly wasted no time in reading my latest installment!

I do appreciate your willingness to plough through the large amount of text that comprises this chapter. I hope I included sufficient images to make the reading more interesting.

I'm also quite pleased to hear you liked the four-smurflings picture. I had a great deal of fun creating it, though I'll admit my favorite was the "newborn" picture.

Yours and other’s kind words and ongoing encouragement has inspired me to put my best foot foreword with this little project. [Smile]


Posts: 106 | From: In transit | Registered: Jul 2006
Raven Child
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Icon 1 posted 03-03-2009 10:34 PM      Profile for Raven Child   Author's Homepage   Send New Private Message       Edit/Delete Post 
I also liked the new born smurf baby pic [Big Grin] Soo cute, hehee

I was just checking my emails and noticed you had posted new chapter to your story...so I took a moment to read it. I am in the process of updating my story. Soon I will post it. Sadly I won't be posting any new art for a bit...still having computer problems [Frown]

As soon as I get someone to fix them I will waste no time and create more images. Possibly more animated Gifs too with the smurfettes [Wink]

--------------------
"The Raven Child" website: http://www.theravenchild.com/


"Tales of Mytherwrel" facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/TalesOfMytherwrel

Posts: 1276 | From: Canada | Registered: Jan 2005
Smurf in Hand
Smurf
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Member Rated:
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Icon 1 posted 03-04-2009 01:13 AM      Profile for Smurf in Hand       Edit/Delete Post 
Well then, may your computer be back in good working order ere you read this [Happy Smurf]

I'm truely looking forward to seeing some animated GIFs featuring your lovely, azure complexioned elfin damsels [Big Grin]

Posts: 106 | From: In transit | Registered: Jul 2006
Cool Smurf
Super Smurf
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Icon 1 posted 03-04-2009 01:40 PM      Profile for Cool Smurf       Edit/Delete Post 
What a wonderful story so far, Smurf in Hand! I love it! [Cool]

--------------------
RozStaw57 DeviantArt

Posts: 963 | From: Jacksonville, Florida | Registered: Feb 2006

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