por Bill Tiepelman
The Grumpicorn's Garden
The Curse of the Eternal Mood In the heart of the Enchanted Woodland, nestled between the Gigglebrook River and the Whimsydale Meadow, lay the most peculiar of places—The Grumpicorn’s Garden. A land of sparkling petals, twinkling dewdrops, and fluffy pastel clouds that floated lazily in the sky. It was, without question, a paradise. And yet, its self-appointed ruler was the grumpiest little creature to ever exist. Her name? Lady Fluffington Von Sassypaws III. Her title? The Supreme Empress of Perpetual Discontent. Her mood? Permanently unimpressed. Legend has it that Lady Fluffington was once an ordinary, albeit incredibly dramatic, feline. But one fateful day, a mischievous fairy named Glimmerdew tripped over her tail. In a fit of melodramatic rage, Fluffington unleashed a tantrum so magnificent that it sent Glimmerdew spiraling into a bush of sentient tulips. Enraged (and covered in pollen), the fairy placed a curse upon Fluffington. “May your fur be forever fabulous! May your horn shine brighter than the stars! And may you, above all else, be doomed to a life of… unbearable sassiness!” There was a dramatic clap of thunder (despite it being a perfectly clear day), and Fluffington was transformed into what she was always meant to be—a Grumpicorn. A tiny, fluffy, pink-maned, unicorn-horned feline with a permanent look of pure judgment. A being of beauty, but also of unrelenting moodiness. A Reign of Grumpiness Now, instead of spending her days doing normal cat things—like knocking cups off tables or plotting world domination—Fluffington ruled over her garden with an iron paw. She had a strict set of rules, all written in glittery ink on a scroll of enchanted parchment: Rule #1: No excessive cheerfulness. Smiling is acceptable in moderation, but giggling? Punishable by an immediate, soul-piercing glare. Rule #2: Do not, under any circumstances, call her “adorable.” The penalty? A single, dramatic hair flip followed by an exasperated sigh. Rule #3: Offerings of fine tuna and imported cream are required upon entering the garden. Rule #4: If one must compliment her, the words “majestic,” “glorious,” or “queenly” are preferred. Despite these rules, the woodland creatures couldn’t help but adore Lady Fluffington. The enchanted rabbits fluffed their tails in admiration. The owls whispered about her legendary sass. Even the fairies, despite their grudge, frequently peeked into the garden just to bask in her undeniable aesthetic. The Arrival of Trouble One peaceful afternoon, as Fluffington lounged on a plush velvet cushion (because grass was simply too pedestrian for her delicate paws), a shadow loomed over her kingdom. “HARK, MORTAL BEAST!” a voice bellowed. “I, PRINCE GUMDROPLEON OF THE GIGGLE FAIRIES, DEMAND AUDIENCE!” Fluffington, without even opening her eyes, exhaled the most exasperated sigh in the history of sighs. Fairies. Again. The prince, clad in shimmering golden tights and a cape made of literal stardust, fluttered down in a swirl of unnecessary dramatics. “You have long defied the Sacred Code of Whimsy! Your kingdom of perpetual sass threatens the balance of the Enchanted Woodland! By decree of the Grand Council of Unrelenting Cheerfulness, I demand you lighten up!” Fluffington finally cracked one eye open, her gaze dripping with disdain. “I will lighten up when the sun stops being an overachiever, Greg.” “It’s PRINCE GUMDROPLEON.” “Mmmhmm. Sure, Greg.” The prince huffed, twirling his wand impatiently. “You leave me no choice, Lady Fluffington. If you do not surrender your grumpiness willingly, we will FORCE you to experience joy!” At this, Fluffington’s tail twitched ever so slightly. “Excuse me?” “By the power vested in me, I hereby challenge you to the most sacred of fairy duels—The Trial of Ultimate Delight!” The enchanted woodland fell silent. A single petal drifted dramatically through the air. Somewhere, a butterfly gasped. Lady Fluffington narrowed her eyes. “You dare challenge me?” Prince Gumdropleon nodded. “If you lose, you must embrace whimsy, laughter, and all things joyous. If you win, well… you won’t win.” Fluffington rose to her paws, her horn glistening with defiant radiance. “Oh, sweet summer child,” she purred, “prepare to be grump-smacked.” The Trial of Ultimate Delight The air crackled with anticipation as woodland creatures, fairies, and a particularly nosy squirrel gathered to witness the most absurd showdown in enchanted history. Lady Fluffington Von Sassypaws III stood on one side, her tail swishing with supreme irritation. On the other, Prince Gumdropleon, his wings glittering with unearned confidence. A floating, sentient parchment hovered between them, unrolling with a flourish. “BEHOLD!” it boomed. “The sacred rules of The Trial of Ultimate Delight are as follows: The challenger—Prince Gumdropleon—shall present a series of whimsical challenges designed to break the accused’s grumpy demeanor. The accused—Lady Fluffington—must endure each trial without succumbing to joy.” Fluffington yawned. “Fabulous. Let’s get this nonsense over with.” Trial One: The Dance of Inescapable Cheer With a snap of his fingers, Gumdropleon summoned a battalion of enchanted tap-dancing mushrooms. They shuffled, twirled, and clicked their tiny feet in a synchronized performance so aggressively delightful that birds started harmonizing in the trees. The fairies swayed. The woodland creatures clapped. Even the trees seemed to bop along. Lady Fluffington? She blinked once. Slowly. “Not even a toe tap?” Gumdropleon gasped. Fluffington’s eyes remained void of amusement. “Your fungi are basic, Greg.” The mushrooms, insulted, pirouetted away in defeat. Trial Two: The Giggle Gauntlet Undeterred, the prince summoned a team of expert gigglers—fluffy baby bunnies, baby goats in pajamas, and one particularly chubby hedgehog in a tiny top hat. They snorted, wheezed, and tumbled over each other in a display of weaponized cuteness. The fairies collapsed from sheer delight. Fluffington watched, her expression colder than an ice sculpture of disappointment. “Precious,” she finally muttered. “But I have witnessed greater chaos at a brunch buffet.” The hedgehog dramatically fainted. Trial Three: The Sacred Sprinkles of Doom Prince Gumdropleon was sweating now. “Fine,” he said. “You leave me no choice. I must unleash the ultimate weapon.” He raised his wand, and from the heavens rained down… sprinkles. Pink. Blue. Glittering. Swirling in the air like a whimsical blizzard of saccharine doom. Fluffington gasped. Not out of joy—but out of pure, undiluted fury. “HOW DARE YOU?” she bellowed, shaking off the cursed confetti. “DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO GET SPRINKLES OUT OF FUR? THIS IS A WAR CRIME!” Gumdropleon smirked. “Ah-ha! You reacted! That counts as a—” Before he could finish, Fluffington’s horn pulsed with a blinding light. The ground trembled. The flowers shrank back in fear. The prince barely had time to yelp before a powerful GRUMP-WAVE exploded from the tiny unicorn-cat. The sprinkles disintegrated midair. The giggling bunnies went solemn. Somewhere, in the distance, a rainbow curled in on itself and wept. Victory and Consequences When the dust settled, Prince Gumdropleon lay face-down in a pile of existential dread. “So,” Fluffington said, delicately licking her paw, “who, exactly, was supposed to win again?” The sentient parchment twitched. “The accused has successfully resisted all forms of delight. She is, without a doubt, the Supreme Empress of Perpetual Discontent.” The woodland erupted into cheers—not of joy, but of deep, unwavering respect. Even the grudge-holding fairies had to admit it. Lady Fluffington Von Sassypaws III was simply too powerful. The Aftermath Prince Gumdropleon, now emotionally wounded beyond repair, rose with a dramatic sigh. “Fine,” he muttered. “You win. Keep your grumpiness. But know this…” He pointed a glittery finger at Fluffington. “I WILL RETURN.” “Mmhmm,” she said, already walking away. “Let me know how that works out for you, Greg.” And with that, the Grumpicorn stretched luxuriously, climbed onto her velvet cushion, and went back to what she did best—being gloriously, unapologetically unimpressed. Her garden remained as it always had—enchanted, beautiful, and ruled by the world’s most magnificent, moody, undefeated little creature. Bring the Grumpicorn Home Do you feel a deep, spiritual connection to Lady Fluffington’s unmatched level of sass? Do you, too, wish to bask in her unimpressed majesty? Good news—you can now welcome the Grumpicorn into your own kingdom! From regal canvas prints to mood-boosting (or mood-matching) throw pillows, you can bring her iconic presence into your home. Whether you need a tapestry to transform your space, a wood print to add timeless elegance, or even a puzzle to ponder her greatness piece by piece—there’s a Grumpicorn for every occasion. Remember: A home without a Grumpicorn is just a house. Make yours truly enchanting.
