Throwback: The Very Sick Goblins
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Welcome to Stories Podcast. I'm your host, Amanda Weldon. Today's story is a throwback episode. Tune in to hear one of our classic stories from the archive that you might have missed the first time around.

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Thanks. Enjoy the episode. The Very Sick Goblins.

Once upon a time, in a little village on the edge of the forest, there was a doctor named Louise. She wasn't a medicine woman or a shaman. She wasn't a cleric or an herbalist, as many of the common folk thought. No, she was a medical doctor, with all the studying and knowledge that entails. She had learned her healing arts from the masters at the king's own castle, and now she found herself at the edge of the kingdom, practicing it.

What's the problem today? She asked her latest patient, a wide-eyed, sticky little boy with tears in his eyes and a lump on his forehead. I hit my face. It hurts, the boy wailed. And it hurts, his mother said. Yeah, I got that, Louise said, peering into the boy's eyes. He'll be fine. My, the boy wailed.

poor baby, the mother wailed back. The doctor sighed. She had been in the village for over a year now, and she mainly worked with all of its many, many children. All day she treated bumped heads and skinned knees and boogery noses, and her office was full of shouts and screams and shrieks and running and wrestling.

That's not a toy, she'd say. Don't poke that. Don't move that. Don't touch that. They didn't listen, though. And for every hour she spent bandaging scraped elbows, she spent two just cleaning up after her patients. Finally, she had enough. She made sure everyone was as healthy as they were likely to get, packed a bag, and hung a sign saying she was taking a couple weeks vacation.

Louise wasn't sure where she'd go, but a passing wagon of merchants offered her a ride to a bigger village on the river. It wasn't fancy, but sitting by the water sounded like a nice change of pace. And with goblins in the woods, it was always safer to travel in groups. They set out the next day, with the merchants riding in front with the horses and Louise sitting on the back.

The wagon bumped along the old dirt road, and the pair of horses jingled as they walked. The merchants talked business as they went, and Louise let her mind wander, thinking of the books she was going to read on her vacation. The days wore on, and the trees grew close around them. The path narrowed from a wide avenue to a knobbly trail.

Should we be this far in the forest? Louise asked. She didn't like the way the branches seemed to loom over them, like they were in some dark tunnel. Nothing to worry about, doctor, one of the merchants said, and then turned to his companion. This is our shortcut. Is it safe to be so deep into the woods? She asked. Of course, perfectly safe, said the other. We've come this way a hundred-

A crude arrow buzzed from the woods. It stuck into the wagon between the two merchants with a thwack. Goblins, the other merchant cried, grabbing the reins. Go, go!

Goblins? Louise asked, her blood running cold. She had treated a few patients who had run-ins with goblins, and she knew they were a nasty bunch. The doctor stood up in the back of the wagon. Did you say goblins? Yeah, giddy up, the merchant called, and his partner snapped the reins. The horses shot forward as more arrows thunked into the wagon's wooden sides, narrowly missing the drivers. The

The wagon lurched ahead, and Louise was caught off guard. She tumbled from the back and hit the ground hard, the breath whooshing from her lungs. The world swam around her, her head pounded, and her mouth was suddenly dry and dusty. She tried to call out, but had no breath. She could only watch as the wagon sped away, merchants shouting and horses whinnying as the arrows fell around them.

They probably had no idea she had even fallen out. She tried to say, but she only managed a croak. Suddenly, she heard a terrible, sniffling voice. Poor Shrewdeg, it said. They got away. Goblins, Louise thought, and she tried to run. Her head still swam, though, and she only stirred weakly in the dust.

Oh, looks like they left one behind, though, came another voice, thick with phlegm. A warty, lumpy, frog-skinned goblin face leaned over her, snuffling at a runny nose. Perfect. Should we take her for the soup? Aye, put her in the sack with the onions.

Louise heard a fit of coughing mixed with wild laughter, and then everything went dark. She woke up to jeering voices and the low crackle of a fire. Oh, the soup's waking up. Louise blinked and shook her head slowly. The doctor training in her evaluated her injuries and decided there was nothing to worry about on that front. Her current situation, on the other hand, was the exact opposite.

When she tried to move, she found she was tied hand to foot. All around were hacking, sneezing, and wheezing goblins, all about as tall as her waist, with long, toothy faces and mottled, warty skin. Who wants some soup? A goblin wearing a filthy chef's hat cried, and a raucous cheer went up.

With dawning horror, Louise realized she was in a giant iron pot, one so big you could boil a pig. Or a doctor, she thought, and shivered uncontrollably. She wasn't alone in the pot, though. It was full of water, and floating next to her were also mushrooms, onions, and some other less savory bits and bites.

The crackle sound and heat by her feet told her there was a roaring fire underneath the pot. They're trying to cook me, she realized. Wait, she said. Please, just wait. Wait, asked the chef between sneezes. We just got the fire going. Now be quiet and turn into soup. I'm so tired.

The goblins all laughed. Louise looked for help and saw they were in some rocky clearing deep in the woods, a steep granite cliff sheltering one side. There would be no help coming, not any time soon at least. Unless she thought of something fast, she'd be boiled, surrounded by a bunch of nasty goblins. Just why do you want to make me into soup? She said. It's simple.

Achoo, the chef said, sneezing so hard his grubby hat launched into the dirt. When you're sick, you eat human soup. A chicken told me that. Are you sure a human didn't tell you to eat chicken soup? The goblin thought about it for a moment. No, I think I have it right, he said, adding a log to the fire. We're all sick, and you're the cure.

She tried to ask more, but the goblins were already chanting. Human soup! Human soup! They cheered and then laughed and hacked and coughed and honked. You're all sick? She asked.

Ugh, they've been sick for weeks, wheezed a goblin. Sneezing, coughing, fever so hot you could fry an egg. I mean, look at this. He cracked an egg onto his friend's head, where it immediately began to sizzle. I mean, I'm sorry to cook you, the chef said, but we're just really tired of being so sick.

Louise watched as a stray frog hopped free of the pot. A goblin wiped his runny nose, then threw it back in, giving her an idea. You're sick? She asked. Well, maybe I can help you. I'm a doctor. That's great, called a goblin. It is? Asked Louise. Yeah, it said. We've never eaten a doctor before. Ha!

They started fanning the flames beneath her. Louise felt the water getting warmer and struggled against the ropes, but she was tied too tightly. No, wait, she said. Doctors heal people. I can help you all get better. Uh, the chef said, stirring the water around her with a gnarled wooden spoon. I don't know. It seems like a trick.

It's not a trick. You can trust me. The goblins booed and cheered and hooted at her. They sprayed clouds of phlegm into the air and laughed hysterically. How could we trust you? Just let me give you some advice. If it doesn't help, then you can make me into soup. The goblins grumbled and argued and screeched and sneezed, and Louise found she couldn't follow much of the conversation.

Finally, though, the chef turned back to her. Okay, you can tell me one thing, he said, holding up a single boogery finger. If it helps, you could do another. And if not, your soup. Okay. All right, all right, that's fair, said Louise. But can you maybe get me out of the pot? Advice first and pot second.

Louise licked her lips. The water was getting hot now, like a nice steaming bath when you first slip in. Okay, when you cough and sneeze, you're shooting germs everywhere. Oh, we love germs, said a little goblin on his dad's shoulders. Germs are great. There was a general chorus of agreement.

Sure, sure, germs are great, said Louise. But germs are also how sickness spreads. When you sneeze and cough, you're shooting germs into the air, and anyone who touches them will get sick, too. Well, how do we stop it? You can't hold it a sneeze. Your head will pop. You have to sneeze and cough into your elbow. That way, the germs stay in your arm, and you don't spread the sick around.

The goblins looked at her suspiciously and then came together in a little group. Louise heard lots of murmuring and muttering and saw some gestures in her direction, but was having trouble concentrating as the water continued to heat up. Finally, the goblins turned and came back to her. Okay, we'll try it, he said. You stay here.

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The goblins lifted her out of the pot and dumped a bucket of frogs in her place. Once she was free, the doctor demonstrated the proper way to cough and sneeze into their elbows. The goblins weren't that interested at first, but once she told them it was called the vampire cough, they were way more on board. Achoo!

I'm Dracula! No, I'm Dracula, said another, and they fell over cackling and wrestling. The goblins were still wild as ever that night, but most of them sneezed and coughed into their elbows, at least when they remembered. At bedtime, the chef threw her an old moldy fur. Sleep well, we'll probably cook you in the morning.

Louise laid on the fur, but needless to say, she didn't sleep much that night. The goblins kept her up with their coughing and sneezes and cackling, and it didn't help that every time she shut her eyes, she dreamed of being back in the big soup pot, water boiling this time. The next morning, she was roused from her half-sleep by a dirty wooden spoon bonking her on the head. Hey, Hubert.

The chef said. Come on, wake up. Are you here to make me into soup? Louise asked. Less of us are sick today, he said. Some of the gag, most of them, really, would still want to eat you, but a deal is a deal. So now, give us another doctor tip. Will you let me go if I do? The goblins huddled together for a moment, whispering and hacking up phlegm in a tight circle.

Finally, the chef turned and waddled up to her. No, he said. We can't let you go until we're all better. Breakfast now and then more doctoring, okay? Louise watched as the goblins laid out a meal of worms and bugs and strange old meats.

As soon as the food was out, the creatures swarmed it like ants at a picnic. They slurped worms and gobbled bugs, snatching them from each other's mouths and laughing wildly. They shared the meat in giant hunks, each goblin taking a bite and passing it on to the next. A jug of swamp water was passed around and everyone took a sip straight from the lip.

When things started to calm down, the chef walked over with a plate of worms and sat it in front of Louise. Hungry? Achoo! Oh, uh, no thank you. The chef shrugged. More for me, he said, and tipped the plate into his mouth. Now, more advice. If it's good, maybe you go free. If it's bad, you know, maybe we cook you.

The doctor didn't need much time to think. Watching the goblins eat had horrified her. Okay, you can't share food and drinks like that, she said. When you eat and drink, the germs from your hands and mouth get all over the food. Now, your own germs are fine, but when you share, when you drink from someone else's cup or take a bite of something they've bitten, you're getting their germs.

Ugh, said the chef. More gerb talk. Hey, germs, the young goblin shouted, and everyone cheered. I'm sorry, do you want to keep getting each other sick forever, or do you want to get better? The goblin scrambled, but they agreed to give it a chance, even though they were really excited about human soup.

That night at dinner, more worms and bugs, they were careful not to share so much. Well, some were careful, and others got a knock on the head from the chef's big wooden spoon. Oh, oh, oh, oh, no biting. Listen to the doctor, he said, then came over to Louise. All right, sleep well. We'll probably cook you in the morning.

Another long night passed and Louise was once again jostled awake by the goblin chef. Less sick today. Looks like maybe you know a thing or two. For the first time in days, Louise felt hope start to rise in her chest. Maybe she'd actually get out of this unsouped. So you'll let me go?

The chef shook his head and gestured at the many goblins still sneezing, coughing, wheezing, and just generally leaking boogers. Not healthy yet. You get one more chance. Once again, the doctor didn't hesitate at all. You all need to start washing your hands, she said. Well, okay, you need to start washing your everything, but let's start with your hands.

Oh, that's bad advice. Looks like you're gonna be soup after all. What? Louise said, honestly puzzled. Washing hands is one of the best ways to not get sick. We already wash our hands, a grubby goblin chimed in. It doesn't help at all. Yeah, we wash. Human soup!

the pot. Some goblins came forward and picked her up again, while others started laughing wickedly and piling wood for a cook fire. Time to make your soup. No, wait, Louise said, looking at all the goblins, every one of which had filthy hands. Show me how you wash first. There may be something you're missing. Oh, come on, we can wash. What we need is soup.

Just bring me some water and soap and show me how you wash your hands. The goblins looked at her curiously, their heads cocked to the side like dogs. Water? One asked. For washing? Soap? Another asked. Do you not use soap and water? How do you wash your hands? The goblins all smiled and grabbed handfuls of mud and dirt, rubbing it between their palms and then dusting it off on their pants.

"'See?' said the chef. "'All clean!' Louise sighed. "'Okay, that's not washing,' she said. "'It's a mud wash,' the chef replied. "'Okay, maybe it's washing, but it's not cleaning. "'You need to use soap and warm water, "'and you need to wash your hands front and back "'and between the fingers and around the nails. "'Otherwise, you'll all just stay sick.'

Like this? One of the goblins asked, dipping his hands briefly into a bucket of water and then poking at a bar of soap. No, no, it has to be longer. Longer? Longer washing? The goblins started to boo and jeer. How log? Asked the chef.

"'Well,' said Louise, thinking hard now. "'The goblins weren't much for cleaning, but they listened well enough when they wanted to. "'She just needed something they'd remember. "'Okay, let's try this.'

Rub your palms together, lather up those suds Wash the backs both right and left in water and not mud Interlace your fingers, get the in-betweens Do around your fingernails and scrub them really clean Go back to the middle and all around your thumbs When you're finished singing, rinse your hands, you're done

Once she was done, the goblins all agreed to try washing their hands with warm soap and water. They all hated it at first, but were soon splashing and scrubbing and removing dirt that had been stuck to them for so long, it was almost like family. Wash, wash, wash, they screeched. This can't be that much better than dirt, the chef grumbled. Trust me.

Fied, said the chef, throwing up his newly cleaned hands. Sleep well, we'll probably cook you at the boarding. That night, more from pure exhaustion than anything else, Louise slept long and hard. The next morning, she once again woke up to the grimy wooden spoon bonking her on the head. You could just say good morning, she said, rubbing her sleep crusty eyes.

Good morning, doctor, the goblin chef said, smiling wide. Notice anything? He looked at her expectantly. Look, the chef said, pulling open his rubbery, warty nose. No more boogers. No more boogers, cheered the other goblins who had all gathered around. No more boogers. No more kawash, wash, wash.

So now will you let me go? The goblins all huddled together again. Finally, the chef came back over, the crowd behind him. You could go, he said. On one condition. Louise felt her heart lifting, but was still too suspicious to be truly hopeful. Okay, what's the condition? You come back next year for a checkup.

Louise smiled. That I can do, she said. And all the goblins cheered. Later that day, Louise stumbled back into town.

She was tired but overjoyed to not have been cooked into soup. She nodded at some neighbors and then froze when she saw her office. In front was a crowd of parents with an even bigger crowd of kids. They all had runny noses and hacking coughs and boogery faces, but they were all still just as wild as ever.

Somehow, though, after the goblins, some rambunctious kids didn't really feel all that overwhelming. Doctor, said one mother. Thank God you're back. We're all sick. Do you have any advice? Louise smiled. Well...

Rub your palms together, lather up those suds Wash the backs both right and left in water and not mud Interlace your fingers, get the in-betweens Do around your fingernails and scrub them really clean Go back to all and all around your thumbs When you're finished singing, rinse your hands, you're done Yay! The end

Today's story, The Very Sick Goblins, was an original story written for you by Daniel Hines and performed for you by me, Amanda Weldon, with an original song by us both. If you would like to support Stories Podcast, you can leave us a five-star review on iTunes. Check out all of our merch available at storiespodcast.com slash shop, commission a special video on Cameo, follow us on Instagram at storiespodcast, or simply tell your friends about us. Thanks for listening!