A Little Snippet
Jacob stood outside a quaint little cottage nestled at the edge of the Henry Hudson Trail in Keyport. Back in New Jersey, he thought. The air was crisp, infused with the scent of pine and wildflowers. He straightened his tie and adjusted the cuffs of his tailored suit, heart pounding with anticipation.
Jacob had been assigned to retrieve a vital artifact — a mystical crepe pan said to possess the power to make anyone able to make crepes suzette, though he had no doubt Hats Munroe had a more devious purpose in mind. The pan, according to intel, had been hidden away by an eccentric dwarf named Bartholomew.
The rumors had first started to spread through the ranks of Jacob’s branch of the United Nations that Bartholomew was the possessor of the said object. Jacob was tasked with convincing him to kindly lend the crepe pan to the UN, ensuring that it would not fall into the wrong hands.
“Gods forbid the malakim learn to make French cuisine,” he muttered under his breath.
As he approached the cottage, Jacob marveled at its whimsical charm. The roof was adorned with colorful mushroom-shaped shingles, and vibrant flowers bloomed in the window boxes. He took a deep breath, knocked on the door, and waited.
After what seemed like an eternity, the door creaked open, revealing a weathered face framed by a long white beard. Bartholomew peered at Jacob with eyes that sparkled with what must have been some sort of ancient, prescient wisdom.
“Ah, you must be Agent Orange,” Bartholomew said in a voice as gravelly as the earth beneath Jacob’s feet. “I’ve been expecting you. Come in, come in.”
Jacob stepped inside the cozy cottage, his eyes scanning the room. Shelves lined the walls, stacked high with books and curiosities. Sunlight filtered through from stained-glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the room.
“Please, have a seat,” Bartholomew gestured to a plush armchair beside a crackling fireplace. “Would you care for some tea?”
“Thank you, but I’m here on a rather urgent matter,” Jacob replied, declining the offer politely. “I’ve come to discuss the crepe pan; not banter with Warwick Davis.”
Bartholomew’s eyes twinkled mischievously as he settled into his own chair. “Ah, the crepe pan,” he said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “A marvelous artifact, indeed. It’s been in my family for generations.”
“I understand its significance,” Jacob said earnestly. “That’s precisely why I’m here. The UN believes that the crepe pan could be misused by those with ill intentions. We seek to ensure its safety.”
The dwarf leaned forward, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “And how do I know that you’re not one of those people with ill intentions?” he asked.
Jacob rolled his eyes and put his hands behind his head. “I assure you, Mr. Bartholomew, I am a dedicated agent with Binah clearance. My sole purpose is to protect the world from those who would misuse powerful artifacts such as this. A crepe pan.” Annoyance was starting to creep into Jacob’s voice.
Bartholomew scrutinized Jacob for a moment, then nodded approvingly. “Very well, Agent Orange. I believe you are genuine. However, I simply cannot hand over the crepe pan without any assurance that it will be returned safely to me.”
“I understand,” Jacob said, his tone forcibly calm and composed. “What assurance do you seek?”
Bartholomew’s eyes brightened as an idea formed in his mind. “I have a favor to ask. There’s a small farmer’s market in town, populated by humans and magical creatures alike. They celebrate a grand hullabaloo for the Fourth of July festival every year, and this time, they’re running low on supplies. I need you to procure a barrel of honey from them before they run out. It is a precious commodity and will ensure my… schemes go on as planned.”
“A barrel?” Jacob asked incredulously. Mystical crepe pan or no, Jacob was under no inclination to don a beekeeper’s getup and harvest an excessive amount of honey. Still, Munroe’s orders were orders. And no one screwed with Munroe’s orders.
Jacob eventually nodded, albeit a bit reluctantly. “Consider it done, Mr. Bartholomew. Once I’ve acquired the honey, I’ll expect the crepe pan in return.”
“Excellent,” the dwarf replied. “You will find the farmer’s market by the bay. The honey merchant’s name is Kenworth. Tell him Bartholomew sent you, and he will assist you.”
Jacob rose from his chair, ready to embark on his mission. “Thank you for your trust, Mr. Bartholomew. I will not let you down.” This whole conversation made Jacob sick to his stomach; he hated bartering.
With a final nod, Bartholomew bid him farewell. Jacob stepped out into the sunlight. He followed the path, guided by the rustling leaves and a chorus of birdsong.
As he walked, Jacob couldn’t help but reflect on the curious nature of his mission. A covert UN agent tasked with acquiring honey from a dwarf-commended farmer’s market to obtain a magical crepe pan — it was certainly a tale for the ages, one that probably needed a good slug of vodka or Fireball to recant.
After a long trek through the woods, Jacob finally arrived at the quaint town center. It bustled with activity as humans (or things pretending to be human) prepared for the festival. He made his way to Kenworth’s honey stall, a small venue adorned with beehives and the sweet aroma of golden nectar.
Kenworth, a jovial-looking man with a bushy black mustache, greeted Jacob warmly. “Ah, Bartholomew sent you, did he? You must be the, uh, procurer, he spoke of. Well then, take a gander, and we shall discuss the honey.”
The honey merchant and Jacob haggled over the price, each trying to strike a fair deal. Eventually, they settled on an agreement, and Jacob purchased a barrel filled with the finest honey in New Jersey, a somewhat dubiously named the ‘Garden State,’ for about two hundred USD. Hell, it wasn’t his money; he used the agency’s Amex.
With the barrel of honey in tow, Jacob retraced his steps along the wooded path, mindful of his posh trainers. The barrel itself was lighter than it should have been; Jacob could tell it had been magicked. Perhaps there was more to New Jersey than he liked to admit. He couldn’t wait to return to Bartholomew and fulfill his part of the bargain and shed the soft vibrations that simply oozed from the barrel.
Upon reaching Bartholomew’s cottage once more, Jacob knocked on the door, snapped his fingers thrice, and the way opened. The dwarf welcomed him inside with a grin.
“I trust your mission was successful?” Bartholomew asked.
Jacob nodded, placing the barrel of honey gently on an uncluttered table. “I’ve returned with the honey, as promised. It wasn’t cheap.”
Bartholomew clapped his hands together, his joy evident. “Marvelous! You have proven yourself to be a trustworthy agent, Master Orange. As promised, here is the crepe pan.”
From a nearby shelf, the dwarf retrieved a gleaming pan, etched with ancient symbols and shimmering with magical energy. Jacob’s breath caught in his throat as he marveled at the artifact’s beauty. This was some sturdy magic indeed, and old.
“Remember,” Bartholomew cautioned, his voice filled with a mix of warning and hope. “The crepe pan must be used wisely. Its power is not to be taken lightly.”
Jacob nodded solemnly, a deep sense of responsibility settling upon him. Crepes suzette for days.
“I assure you, Mr. Bartholomew,” Jacob reaffirmed, “the crepe pan will be safeguarded and used only for the greater good. Our agency will ensure that it remains out of the wrong hands.”
Bartholomew’s eyes softened, his gaze fixed on Jacob. “I believe you, Agent Orange,” he said softly. “May the pan serve its purpose well in your capable hands.”
Jacob wasn’t sure he had capable hands for crepes, but with that, Jacob bid farewell to Bartholomew and left the enchanting cottage, crepe pan in his possession. As he walked back through the woods, a sense of purpose filled his heart. It was as if he suddenly understood the gravity of his mission and the responsibility that came with possessing such a powerful artifact. Old memories of watching Julia Child welled up in the back of his mind.
Back at HQ, after an alarming teleport where Jacob almost materialized in Kviv, Jacob presented the crepe pan to his superior, Hats Munroe, outlining the precautions taken to secure it. The artifact was placed in a vault, protected by the latest security measures and monitored around the clock (a rotation of which Jacob thankfully wasn’t included).
Months passed, and the world continued to spin, unaware of the mystical crepe pan tucked away within the UN’s chambers. Jacob resumed his duties, working tirelessly to protect and serve humanity.
But deep down, he couldn’t help but wonder about the wishes the crepe pan could grant. He pondered the responsibility of holding such power, the temptation it could bring, and the importance of using it for the greater good.
“Jacob’s Jaunt to (Dubious Power)” and All Artwork © Brian Fence 2025
