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By Root 319 0

toys because they didn’t round too many corners and see wrecked versions of themselves. In the beginning, Santa tried to let the Misfits live with everybody else in Kringle Town, but it was tough. Regular toys mocked the Misfits and made them feel like second-class citizens. Every few months, the Misfits would get fed up with the teasing and the stares and strike back at toys or even, out of frustration, at elves. Santa tried to pacify them in every way, but it got to where toys and elves and other folks in Kringle Town could not walk down certain streets at night safely, so Santa opened Misfit Isle. Santa thought he was creating a place where the Misfits could escape the teasing from other toys and have a better life. The Misfits saw it as banishment because an elf was stupid or incompetent. Santa hurt the Misfits’ feelings, and the bitter seed took root. All in all though, life on the island was pretty good and most of the Misfits forgave, but didn’t necessarily forget. You never knew when they would get prickly and strike back. You didn’t want to be around then. When a toy has nothing to lose, he can be dangerous. I guess that goes for all of us too.

Still, I had friends there.

Sherlock Stetson and his Cow-Frau, Zsa Zsa, were a couple of toy disasters, but they were good eggs. A long time ago, cowboy and detective toys were all the rage, for both little boys and girls. One demented elf—Argyle Harmony, I think it was—got it into his pointy head to create a man and wife cowpoke sleuthing team, so little boys and girls could play together. Sherlock Stetson and Zsa Zsa were born. Unfortunately, something went squirrelly in the works, and Sherlock and Zsa Zsa came up short. For a master detective, Sherlock Stetson was kind of dim; he couldn’t find a cow in a stampede. He had no talent for mysteries; most problems required him to lie down and take a nap. His dazed look and clueless phrases when you pulled his drawstring (“Dern, if that clue had been a stampede, I’d be daid!”) did not inspire children to play with him, and the half-ten-gallon/half-deerstalker cap adorned with bull horns made him look like an imbecile from a very bad opera. It didn’t help that Sherlock Stetson also drooled. I think he was supposed to be able to spit “baccy juice,” but his pucker had a sputter and the result was that Sherlock looked like he needed to be wheeled off to the dayroom for crafts.

Zsa Zsa Schnitzel was supposed to be Sherlock’s funny and bright better half, firing up beans and kraut by the campfire to fuel Papa’s deductive thoughts and rides to the rescue. However, because Sherlock’s brain batteries were not included, she ended up having to take the crime-solving reins, and she didn’t like the extra chores. Zsa Zsa was bitter about taking second billing to a husband she didn’t want. “I vant to vatch zee crows eat zee brain outen his head,” she’d say to anyone who’d listen. “If I have to solven another crime for him, I vill slit my throat wit a spur!” We elves did a little research and found that kids didn’t want to play with the pair because the toys reminded them too much of their parents, minus the six-guns, lassos and language that would make the men of Tombstone gasp. Argyle tried to make them more appealing by giving the couple horses (Pudd and Clobber), but the result only made Sherlock and Zsa Zsa look like the sorry Horse-couple of the Apocalypse. Sherlock Stetson, Zsa Zsa and the rest of their bunkhouse buddies were banished to Misfit Isle without getting a real shot at playtime with kids, and that hurt them a little, I think. Well, it hurt Zsa Zsa. Sherlock forgot. Anyway, Sherlock Stetson and Zsa Zsa were permanent residents of Misfit Isle and my best friends there.

Years ago, Sherlock Stetson and Zsa Zsa helped me transition some Misfits who were going to be new to the island and we formed a good friendship. Even with the threats, the gouging, the broken crockery and the broken English, I enjoyed their company. I could count on Sherlock for a friendly face and simple advice, and Zsa Zsa was always good for a great meal