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By Root 317 0

was a slow one, The Scrooge. Tiny Tim was the skipper, so the barge literally limped through the water. I’m not kicking the kid with a crutch; that was Tim’s joke. Not too many ventured out to Misfit Isle and Tiny was starved for company. When he got a passenger for a crossing, Tiny Tim made the most of it. “We’ll limp over to the island as quickly as we can,” he’d say, giving the motor a gasp of fuel. “But Uncle Scrooge doesn’t like me to waste fuel skipping across the water. Costs too much money. I fear a leopard can’t change all of his spots.” Then Tiny would settle in and ask you a million questions, do tricks with his crutch, anything for a little companionship. Tiny Tim was lonely, forgotten except when Christmas needed a sad, saintly cherub to tug at the heartstrings, but then folks moved on. Uncle Eb’s comeuppance was where the scenery got chewed and the gimp tended to slow down the hamming. Tiny Tim was constantly being pushed to the side. Still, he seemed to take it in stride.

“Gumdrop, it is oh so nice to see you,” Tiny said. “It truly is.”

“Thanks, kiddo,” I said. “How are you doing, Tiny? How’s the boat business?”

“Oh, it is splendid!” he said. “As good a job as I could ever hope for, and much more than I deserve. Despite his grumbling, Uncle Scrooge really is very kind to give me this ship to captain.”

“Seems to me a good kid like you deserves something with a little more dignity,” I said. “You’re the poster child for the Nice List.”

“You are too kind, Gumdrop,” Tim said. “But I really don’t mind. In fact, with my withered leg and common crutch, I feel a true kinship with the Misfits. They too are crooked and broken, but, on the inside, giving and true of heart. A crust of love’s bread is what we seek. If others are not able to share a crumb, at least we can share it with each other. It is an honor, truly, to do so with my Misfit friends.”

“Tim, you’re as good as gold.”

“Now, now, you will make me blush,” Tiny said. “So what brings you out to Misfit Isle?”

“I was thinking about seeing if they had any room,” I said.

“Oh, I’m sure they’d be glad for the company, yes indeed,” Tiny said. “But you are perfectly normal. It appears all your appendages are appropriately aligned.”

“Maybe I just don’t fit in at home,” I said.

“I am sure you are loved more than you can possibly know.”

“Always cheering the other guy up, aren’t you Tiny,” I said. “Are there any more of you? Do you ever get mad? Fed up? Ever want to take that stick you’re leaning on and smack someone’s kisser?”

My little speech embarrassed Tiny. He turned red and stared quietly out at the sea. “You must not think such things,” Tiny said after a while. “If I were to have such a mean and hard heart, I would not deserve my many blessings. I would inherit Uncle Scrooge’s other fate. I would belong to the ranks of Pottersville.”

I laughed. “I could not ever imagine Tiny Tim in Pottersville, kiddo. Though your stick would come in handy when it came to cleaning someone’s clock.”

Tim turned away from me again.

“Sorry Tim,” I said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” We rode the rest of the way to Misfit Isle in silence.

It’s not that the Misfit citizens were not hospitable or good company, but they were a moody bunch, especially where elves were concerned, so you never knew when your welcome would be worn out. At the end of the day, elves were responsible for the Misfits. The Misfits were there because some elf botched a design or a production plan, or simply came up with a really lame idea for a toy that the kids never cottoned to. When Santa saw that a toy could not be used, could not be loved, he would not deliver it on Christmas Eve, hurting a Misfit’s feelings plenty. The island was home to thousands of toys that weren’t up to snuff. Most were toy experiments, but sometimes dozens of botched toys were made before production was stopped. These “families” of toys tended to create their own neighborhoods on Misfit Isle, so they could easily share clothes and accessories. The one-offs were the free spirits of the island, the beatniks. They were the happier