Tingle found himself on the floor. Once again amassed in pile of his own unwashed tights, he woke to find that he was still, in fact, alone. “Kooloo-limpah~,” he murmured as he stared down at his dry, crusted toes. He lazily trekked to the bathroom, knowing he would have to shave the fur from his hands again. “What kind of life is this?” His thoughts wandered as he searched for at least one more disposable razor.

Floating through the air, now having gathered himself, Tingle found more time to ponder his being. “Thirty-five,” he thought, “and what have I to show for it?” The wind blew his bloated self to and fro, wiggling his exposed, filth-ridden belly. “No one buys my maps anymore. They all just stare at me.” Even now he could hear their calls.

“Freak.”

“Maniac.”

“Pervert.”

They didn’t understand! Tingle was just trying to follow his dream! It’s a beautiful dream filled with maps of places and eyes and figurines of little girls. He was a forest fairy, for certain, destined to live amongst the other children and dance with fairies: beautiful, beautiful fairies!

“I’m a fairy,” Tingle repeated to himself, but his own self-assurance simply wasn’t enough anymore. No one looked fondly at him, children thought he was an ugly man, and even his own father thought of him as nothing more than a smelly fool. Perhaps that’s what he is. Tingle is just a smelly fool drifting listlessly through the unkind wind that refuses to take him somewhere where people will accept him. “Maybe I’m really not a-”

A loud pop had alarmed Tingle. Although he had heard it many times before, it was nevertheless surprising, especially when you’re drifting on self-depreciation for a good distance. Before Tingle could finish his thoughts, he hit the ground with tremendous force, bending his legs beneath him. Scoliosis was surely not far off. He looked around himself to see who might have called upon him only to find a little girl.

“Hi,” she spoke. Tingle stared for a moment before offering a rebuttal. “Hello.” More patience on his part did not seem to offer any incentive to the little girl because she spoke nary another word, until Tingle forced himself to question her further.

“Could I interest you, perhaps, in a custom-made map detailing the area?”

“Maybe.”

Her insolence stirred a heat from in him, and he could feel a sweat begin to break. He questioned further. “Would you, perhaps, like to buy a map of this area: the, um, uh-.” In his drifting, Tingle had neglected to take his location into account. He would surely botch the sale now, and his father was sure to beat him again. He began to dance his feet about in dread.

“This is Romani Ranch, Mr. Silly Prancy Pants!”

Tingle was somewhat taken aback. She didn’t take note of his rancid odor, but, instead, noted the prance within his pants. Tingle could feel a stirring there, but tried to keep it to himself.

“Thank you, little miss, I muchly appreciate it. So then, would you like to buy a map for Romani Ranch.”

“No.”

Tingle could already feel the barbed wire cracking and tearing against his hind side. “Well, why not?” He sputtered.

“This is my ranch, Mr. Dancy.”

“Ah.”

“Silly Mr. Fancy Prancy Dancy.”

All this rhyming was beginning to make Tingle’s heart beat faster and the sweat drip harder in spite of the lack of the sale. This little girl intrigued him. “Why, then, would you shoot my balloon?”

“I dunno. You looked like a fairy up there.”

Glorious Occasion! It couldn’t possibly be. Tingled wiggled himself to be certain that he was awake. Indeed, the tremor had not caused an arousal; this was real! Someone had finally seen him for what he was, and it should be no other than this beautiful little girl, her hair so fiery and her eyes so penetrating. Her soft skin seemed to glow and Tingle gazed upon her, magnificent and lush as she was. He begin to inch closer to her and pirouette.

“But now that you’re here on the ground, I can see you’re just an old man.”

Just like that, it was all over. The child that was once so accepting, had quickly demolished and burned all hope and happiness that could have ever existed. Tingle pondered how long it would take them to find his strung body in his closet. Weeks? Decades?

“I see, then,” Tingled managed, “I suppose I’ll just leave, in that case.” As tingle was inflating his balloon, the little girl interrupted, “Why so sad, mister?” Tingle let the air of the balloon waft past his face. He stared at the sweet young thing, remorseful. “No one loves me, my dear child. I am the epitome of all hatred and misrepresentation in the world. If there is a need for anger and distaste, surely it is myself that it will be directed upon. Once I believed my use to be light and frivolous, spreading joy as a young fairy boy to all, but now I see it as a tormented halfwit: useful only for others to find disgust. You see, if even you–the fairest and most beautiful child that I could ever hope to harbor a love for–find disgust in me, then it can only be infallible.”

The young girl looked at Tingle for a moment. He bagan to ponder if perhaps he had said too much. The people of this land would find another reason to hate Tingle. The girl one again interrupted his thoughts.

“I’m not really sure what you’re talking about, but you sound really sad.” She looked at Tingle some more, as if she were making an honest attempt at understanding exactly what he was about. Suddenly, she said, “I know!” And with that, she ran off.

Tingle lamented her flight, but it was evident that he had best do the same. He floated into the air pondering his own wake, when not but ten feet off the ground his balloon popped once more. It was the little girl again, and she seemed to not even acknowledge that he was leaving. As she held out a bottle of milk, she said, “Here, Mr. Pantsy Old Fairy Man, this is special bottle for you!”

“What is it?” Tingle forced.

“You sounded very, very sad, and whenever my older siter is sad, she drinks this special batch of Romani’s Milk. She tells me that when you drink it, it brings out all your heart and strength. It sounded like that’s what you wanted, so I got it for you!”

Pleased, she held out the bottle for Tingle to take, which he reluctantly took, but not without a smile on his face. Although he doubted the power of milk, Tingle was pleased that anyone would give him a gift. Were it to be anyone in this land, he would prefer it be this lovely girl. So, at least to that effect, Tingle had found some happiness in this milk.

At the end of the day, Tingle found himself on his bed, bottle in hand. It seemed strange that milk would have so much to offer in addition to magical effects. Tingle had experienced no magic in his life and was wary to begin with a bottle of milk. The face of that sweet young girl kept coming back to him, though, and as his fingers caressed his belly button, he chose to drink the milk. He popped the cork off, raised it to his lips, and tilted his head back, ready to consume.

It had a wonderfully sweet taste to it, and already he was feeling the energy. There was so much milk packed into this one bottle–it could have been two whole helpings–but a strange urge came over Tingle,  and he drank it all down. Finishing the bottle, he slammed it down on his dresser top. There were no immediate effects, but he was eager to feel something and sat entirely still in anticipation.

A strange pain came over him. Had he had too much at once? No, this was a hard pain: a pain all over. It was sharp and pressing; he could feel it in his bones. It kept growing and growing, worse and worse. It was unbearable. Tingle curled over on the side of the bed and fell off hitting the floor, but the pain was so immense he didn’t notice. “Poison,” he thought. The girl must have seen something horrible in him and decided to do him in. She wanted to spare the world of the ramblings of an insane old man. She didn’t care for Tingle at all.

Maybe this was better. It saved him the trouble of doing it himself. He would go just like that. Easy.

The pain was growing. It would be over soon. Nothing more to worry about or fear. No more people to hurt. Suddenly a violent pain shot up his spine. “This is it,” he thought. His spine twisted and bent, then elongated to ten times its size, thowing Tingle into the wall. He could feel one wall with his head and the other with his feet. “What’s happening!”

His arms and legs twisted and convulsed and began to increase in size as well. He shrilled; this hurt more than before. Soon his whole body was gyrating and growing until he burst through the walls and roof of his room. He grew and grew until finally the pain and the growth stopped. His house was mere debris atop his foot, and he wore it as if it were a shoe. Tingle had no thoughts. None. A deep well of sadness and anger, however, stewed within him until a great bellow was released from his, now, jagged mouth. He traipsed through the land destroying everything in his path.

The Clock Town was first to go. The swampland temple fell shortly thereafter. Zora Hall was scattered amongst the Great Bay, and there was no longer music to be heard in Ikana Canyon. Even the mountains crumbled before the massive Tingle. The Four Giants themselves fell against this new, grander giant. It took one lone hero riding horseback to defeat this monstrosity. Tingle could feel it as the hero climbed his enormous body. Everything was done. Everything was gone. As the hero climbed up the back of Tingle’s neck, Tingle looked down to see a ranch beneath his feet. He couldn’t feel anymore anger or sorrow. He couldn’t feel any joy or happiness. He couldn’t feel anything. He couldn’t even feel the little girl that was beneath his feet.

He felt a sharp pain at the top of his head, and he fell on the earth.