Roy and Wheeler Take the Stick of Truth

When Roy first saw the cool-looking stick at the top of the roof of Maddie’s house, he knew it would grant him unlimited power. He first noticed the gnarly thing on the way back from school one day. As was routine, Roy sat on the back seat of his car with his chubby face smushed against the window, staring blankly outside while his dad droned on about whatever it was that was bothering him at the moment. Most of the time it was stuff like how he needed to be more responsible now that he was getting into fourth grade, how he needed to stop leaving things behind, or how leaning against the window filled his face with bacteria. There was a method to Roy’s madness though. For one, it helped keep his mind off of his dad’s incessant yapping, and two, it was the only way he could get a clear view of Forrest Wheeler, premier monster hunter and Earth’s last line of defense against the scourge of the earth: Klookies. 

Invisible to all but Roy, thanks to advanced cloaking armor, Forrest Wheeler would run alongside the car with his pulsar blaster behind his back, arms stiff behind him like a ninja to reduce drag. Roy enjoyed watching Forrest Wheeler because he was especially good at parkour despite all the gear he’d carry. Vaulting over cars and flipping over the roofs of buildings made Roy want to bust out the car and try it himself. He wondered if there was anything out there that could even stop this man. 

Roy got his answer when Forrest Wheeler, premier Klookie blaster, ran to the side mirror of Roy’s moving car to admire his reflection and rammed his beautiful face into a tall tree. And out from that tree fell the most diabolical, most awesome stick ever spawned on God’s green earth. The Earth spun a little slower for a time as it fell from above. It had a handle made of pure wood, runes etched into its surface by the Minimen who took care of the tree, and by whose hand a gemstone was embedded in the hilt. Its blade, made of the finest lumber, coiled with a snake of pure bark. These elements imbued the stick with both black and white magical properties, allowing the caster access to all manner of magic. Roy hoped that forbidden magic was among its capabilities.

So one fine weekend, after being exiled to the outside on account of his flabby tummy, Roy decided to scope out the stick. 

He enlisted the help of Forrest Wheeler, stick-picking extraordinaire, who said, “Roy, your Dad said we should play with friends, not chase after sticks.”

“You of all people should know I don’t got lots of friends.” 

“We could hit the park, maybe make some friends there.”

Roy didn’t know why that thought made his chest feel weird and heavy. “You think kids my age are out there? They’re all inside playing video games anyway.”

Forrest Wheeler shrugged. “I think it’s worth a shot.”

Roy’s gaze dropped to the ground, scuffing his shoes against the dirt. “You sound a lot like Dad. I don’t like it. We’re going to get my stick or you don’t get your money.”

“Curses, that’s right. I love money. Please, carry on.”

Roy had a hard time carrying on. The closer he got to the tree, the slower his steps became. Sweat pooled against his neck, absorbed by the towel wedged between his shirt and skin. He smacked his dry lips.

“I’m parched,” Roy huffed. “Do you have water, Mr. Wheeler?”

“You know you can’t drink my kind of water, Roy. And we barely walked three minutes.”

“I-I’m thirsty, okay? Maybe we should head back…”

Forrest Wheeler gave him a look Roy knew too well. “You’re stalling. You’re nervous because we’re going to Maddie’s, aren’t you?”

Roy felt that weird not-nice chest feeling again. Of all the kids in his class, Maddie Kim was the one he liked the most. They’d exchanged a few words on occasion, but more than that she was nice compared to all the other guys that would poke his stomach, or call him names, or point and laugh at him… 

Roy wondered if he had wronged a Miniman in the past, and to get back at him, he dropped that stick-sword-wandspecifically on Maddie Kim’s roof to force him to her home. He moved forward awkwardly, the possibility of running into her looming over his head. What would he even do? What would he even say?

“Hey, kid,” Forrest Wheeler asked. “You okay? We could head back if you want.”

“I’m not nervous!” Roy turned to Forrest Wheeler and blew the fattest, wettest raspberry at him.

Forrest Wheeler produced a handkerchief from his utility belt and dabbed his cheeks of Roy’s Cheetos-infused spittle. “Let’s hope that’s true because we’re here.”

“HUH? Already?” They both stopped by the tree where Forrest Wheeler, the world’s most graceful parkourist, had imprinted his face for his fans to see. And right next to it was Maddie Kim’s one-story house. Roy hoped that the drawn curtains meant Maddie was either asleep or wasn’t home. He had to move fast. The legendary stick rested neatly by the edge of the roof, taunting Roy by peeping out its bejeweled hilt over to him. 

“Mr. Wheeler,” Roy asked. “Think you could use your adult body or your adult tools to get the stick for me?”

Forrest shook his head. “My gear is only for monster-hunting. It won’t work here.”

“Darn it.” Roy knocked on his head. “If I could just jump as high as you, Mr. Wheeler, I could get it and leave in a flash.”

“But you can’t, kid. So what’s your plan?”

“My plan?” Roy scoffed, rubbing his hairless chin thoughtfully. “Ask the Minimen for help.”

Roy walked over to the tree and rapped his knuckles on the wood—lightly, so as not to scratch his skin. The tree rustled in response to the visitor and out emerged a Miniman. He walked along the length of a tree branch above Roy, donning the slickest sunglasses and suit he’d ever seen. The Miniman looked down on Roy with disdain—and sprouted a pair of iridescent fairy wings as sparkles fell and glistened in the sun as an act of intimidation. Roy spat out the dust that fell on his mouth.

The Miniman turned to Forrest Wheeler (experienced interspecies diplomat). “What business do you long-limbed freaks have in this ‘ere fine tree?” The Miniman squeaked like a mouse. “I’ll have ye know we’re quite busy today.”

“Busy with what?” Forrest Wheeler asked. 

The Miniman clicked his tongue. “Some bozo knocked the Tower of Truth off our tree, and we’re currently having a meeting discussing how we can recover it.”

Forrest Wheeler, professional throat-clearer, coughed lightly. “You mean the stick?”

“How dare you!” The Miniman pointed at them with as much rage as his millimeter-sized finger could. “That is the Tower of Truth, and it is the source of our magic. Without it, we have nothing. We can’t even fly.”

Roy perked up at that. “Really?”

He kicked the tree. A high-pitched mosquito-liked ringing followed the Miniman as he plummeted from the tree. Of all the things Forrest Wheeler was, he was not a professional catcher. The Miniman landed splat on the ground and disintegrated in a poof of fairy dust.

“Interesting,” Roy said. “So that’s what happens.”

Forrest Wheeler slowly turned to Roy. “Boy, what did you just do?”

“I guess I just did what you usually do.”

Forrest Wheeler looks horrified. “I-I hunt monsters, Roy. Monsters. Soon, the entire Miniman populace of this tree will be upon us now that you’ve killed one of theirs.”

“Say, guys,” a Miniman said from inside the tree. “Why hasn’t Ralph come back yet?”

“Wo-uh-oh,” Roy stuttered. “D-don’t you have Miniman-killing weapons? And besides, they don’t have magic so it’s all fine and dandy.”

“Boy, a Miniman without magic is like a man with a knife and nothing to lose. It may be best for us to leave.”

“No!” Roy stomped his foot. “We’re not leaving til I get my Stick of Truth!”

“What do you need it for anyway? Miniman magic usually doesn’t translate well in humans. A buddy of mine, once cast a speed spell on himself because he wanted to run faster. To this day, the echoes of his footsteps can still be heard. Mostly in bathrooms for some reason.”

“Don’t care, I want the forbidden spells.”

“What spell is so important that you can’t accomplish yourself?”

“Um, let’s see, be taller?”

“Oh, for…” Forrest Wheeler started making distinct noises with his mouth while waving his arms like a wormy chicken.

Roy giggled. “You won’t be attracting mates dancing like that.”

But the man steeled himself with a deep breath. “You were small once, weren’t you? That’s why it’s called growing up, you literally grow up.”

“Don’t care, want it now.”

“Why?”

“Cuz if I do, maybe Dad will stop yapping in the car.” Roy stuffed his hands in his pockets. “If I’m tall like him, maybe I’ll be more response-able. Maybe I won’t keep leaving stuff behind. Maybe I’ll have real friends and not just imaginary ones.”

“Roy, I…” Forrest Wheeler, licensed surrogate father figure, kneeled to Roy. “I didn’t know that stuff was bothering you.”

Roy nodded without looking at him.

Forrest Wheeler exhaled. “Say, do you know how I killed my first Klookie?” 

“By shooting it?”

“W-well yes, but aside from that. Many don’t realize how difficult it is the first time. Your gun weighs heavy on your back. Armor jangling like keys you’re afraid your position will be exposed. I saw my first Klookie from afar. It was tall with these wide burly shoulders. Mean-looking eyes that froze you where you stood. Sharp teeth with an even sharper tongue. I’ve only ever read about it, but to be there and have it standing in front of you. You begin to doubt if everything leading up to this moment was meant to make you fail.”

“Yeah, see? That’s exactly what I mean.”

“But I did it, Roy. Against everything, I did it. I thought I wasn’t ready, but I was exactly where I needed to be. I just needed to show up. You too, kid. You’re exactly where you need to be. When the world presents itself to you, you present yourself right back. That’s when the real magic happens.”

Roy scratched his sweaty head. “I think my imagination’s actin' up, what kind of advice is that? How did I even think of that to tell myself?”

Forrest Wheeler chuckled. “Your dad isn’t as bad as you think he is. Now, why don’t we go home or hit the park?”

“Naah, I still want the stick.”

“In fairness, it is a sick stick.”

“THERE THEY ARE MEN!” The march of thousands of tiny feet echoed like the drumming of two fingers on a table as Minimen, one after the other, peeked their heads over the branches of the tree above them. 

Forrest Wheeler cleared his throat. “My dear Minimen—”

“YA CALLIN US SMALL?”

“My dear… men of the tree.”

They nodded for him to go on. 

“My boss-man here, Roy, meant no harm. He is but a child of small stature and even smaller brain.”

Roy’s jaw dropped. “Hey!”

“But, he is a good man,” Forrest Wheeler continued. “With a good heart. And good men sometimes make well-intentioned mistakes.”

“He kicked our tree!” Piped up a Miniman. “How is that well-intentioned?”

“Hey guys, hold on,” went another. “I think I recognize that guy.”

The Minimen’s voices grew louder. 

“Yeah, I see that guy running laps with the school bus sometimes.”

“I think his face matches the imprint on the tree!”

“Yeaaah, he disconnected our Tower!”

“I knew I recognized that flat nose!”

Forrest Wheeler, proud proponent of body positivity, puffed out his chest. “That… is kinda mean…”

“MEN, DRAW OUT YOUR WEAPONS!” The Minimen yelled a singular battle squeal like a chorus of chipmunks and drew out weapons from the Old Age—AR15s, .44 magnums, sniper rifles, rocket launchers, fart guns, flaming-piss-throwers, and the pièce de résistance, the Boom Boom Poop Cannon.

Roy giggled. “That’s it? What are those tiny things going to—”

A passing butterfly, innocent and pure, flapped its last when it was burned to ashes by a flaming-piss-thrower.

“Oh, snap.”

“They’re bringing out the big guns,” Forrest Wheeler muttered. His hands were positioned over his utility belt, ready to down any number of potions or hurl a flash bomb or smoke bomb among others.

Roy whistled. “You know they still can’t fly, right?” The boy positioned his hands on the bark of the tree.

“HA!” The Minimen all laughed in unison. “We’re wearing our big boy boots this time.” A Miniman said and showed off a pair of spiked boots stuck into the branch of the tree. Mass genocide by tree-shaking was out of the table.

“Got any ideas, Roy?” Forrest Wheeler’s tone was unusually grave.

Roy swallowed. “We can run?”

“Smashing idea.”

Their genius plan was interrupted by a loud crash of thunder overhead in the sunny sky. A dark cloud coalesced over the roof of Maddie Kim.

“Fiddlesticks!” Forrest Wheeler reached for the gun in his back and drew it. Its barrel glowed blue as he charged it up. “Get behind me, Roy. Do the Klookies want the Stick of Truth too?”

And emerging from the cloud came a creature Roy had seen far too many times. Usually, Forrest Wheeler would blast the darned creature back from whence they came, after which he and Roy would run to kingdom come to stay out of the blast radius. But this creature was too close. There was no turning back. He would have to meet this Klookie face to face.

The Klookie turned to meet Roy. “Oh? Is that Roy Sanchez?” He was a bespectacled middle-aged man dressed in a t-shirt and brown shorts. “What are you doing on our front lawn?”

Forrest Wheeler nudged Roy. “Ask him what he’s doing on the roof.”

The weird feeling in his chest squeezed his heart just a little. “A-and what are you doing on the roof… sir?”

The Klookie laughed. “Just cleaning it up, Roy. That tree on our lawn, I’m not the only one that likes it. Birds like to ruffle the branches, the winds blow leaves all over the place, and kids like to shake it like a big ol’ maraca. So our roof ends up with a lot of sticks and leaves. Oh, you want me to call Maddie?”

“Pffft,” Roy spat out, reminding himself to be cool. “Nope. No, that’s okay Mr. Kim, I was just on my way—”

“Hi, Roy.” 

That was a new voice. Too high to be Forrest Wheeler (renowned baritone), too low to be coming from a pipsqueak Miniman, and too feminine to be the Klookie on the roof.

“I heard Dad say your name from inside.” Maddie Kim was standing right next to Roy. “Whatchu doin' next to the tree?”

Roy stammered his flubbering mouth into a competent “Hey.” 

“Hi.”

“Just… hangin' around.”

“Next to my tree?”

The stick. Should I tell her about the stick? What if they laugh at me? What if I ruin the only nice relationship I have because she’ll find me weird?

Roy felt like he was about to say something decent, but the sound of crunchy leaves and sticks being swept off the roof distracted him. Mr. Kim was already cleaning up.

His stick was at risk.

What if the Klookie breaks it?

“Oh, is that what you’re looking at?” She points at the stick sticking out of her roof. “That’s a cool-looking stick.”

“That’s the Stick of Truth.” Roy’s hands flew to his mouth. He’s said too much.

Maddie turned to him. “The what?”

“Oh, this?” Mr. Kim picked up the stick. “It looks a bit like a sword and a wand, no? Here you go.” He tossed the stick down from the roof. His heart leaped from his chest as if reaching out through his ribcage to save the Stick of Truth from utter destruction and poofing into dust like the Miniman. 

Instead, Roy just stood there. And the stick landed by his feet safely. He picked it up and immediately felt its power pulsating beneath his grip, and—

It would appear its powers were grossly exaggerated.

“Mm, cool stick,” Maddie said.

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to get it down all day.”

“I could tell. You’re real sweaty.” Roy swore Maddie Kim took two steps back in response.

Roy chuckled nervously and put the stick in his pocket. “So, um, I’m gonna go now.”

“What? But you can’t go yet. You have to tell me about your Stick of Truth.”

Roy sighed. “Turns out it ain’t all that powerful. It just looks cool.”

“Yeah, so cool.” Maddie opened her hand up to him. “Can I?”

“Huh? Oh, um…” he plopped the stick right in her hand. 

She waved it around in the air. “Really cool, I gotta show the others.” 

Roy swallowed. “Th-there’s others?”

“Yeah, at the park!” Maddie turned expectantly to her father on the roof. “Please?”

Mr. Kim swept another batch of leaves and sticks off the roof. “Sure, kids. Just be back by lunchtime, okay?”

“Okay,” Maddie said. “Come on!” And she ran ahead. Roy’s heart was pounding again, and he took a deep breath. This was new to him. Everything felt novel. And that excited him. The weird feeling in his chest eased just a little bit, and that made him feel more powerful than the stick ever did.

He turned to Forrest Wheeler. All he did was smile.

He turned to the Minimen. They were smiling too.

And turning back to meet Maddie, Roy too ran forward.