Notice:

Stand by, and allow me to invest in you some occult knowledge about a witty Game that I partake in to write these Fairy Tall Tales. For every Weekly Tale that I am to birth-up and burgeon, it is tradition that I do not think of the First Idea, which particularly resides in a Tittle for the Tale. I am to await for its arrival like a patient turtle, without stretching my mind a hair to reach for it – and so every week, this is so. But this one is a beast of an issue. This one is a monster. Because generally, once the Title is reflected to me by the eye in the mind of I, I develop an instantaneous liking and gratification to the Tall Tale that is yet to be; and then it is time to Wonder – which is a peculiar endeavor inside of its own self.  But this, this grotesque tramp and bleating goat of a scribbled label intrigued me not. It is odiously obscure & lazily celled together; it is horrid & stiff like a graying corpse; it is ill imagined & begotten ill; it is dying devastation & perishable catastrophe, for I spew no lies and I doth not exaggerate –

CURSE Cat Claw.

As each and every Fairytale is a surprise to me, myself and I as well, I am perplexed and chaotically-confused as to what this little red-horned devil could possibly blossom up to be. I had even went ahead and uttered to the tender-hearted Spirit, “Excuse me, Spirit. But what am I to make do with this trash?” And do you know what this tender-hearted Spirit replied to me back?

Spirit:  Figure it out.

So, I suppose I am shackled to make do.

Without further ado:

Cat Claw.

Once Upon a Time in a Timeless State of Mind…

Lo, a farm field full of fluffy white cats – except for one, that is black. Jack, the Pumpkin Headed Son of the Earth, sits cross-legged in the farm field of fluffy white cats, with Gospel the vampire bat hanging from the stem of his mind. The black cat limps over to Jack and laments the sobbing sour song of a deafening caterwauling cat-cry.

Jack:  What is your pain, black cat? You are different than the others, and so you are rich indeed. Is wealth something to shed tear about?

The black cat whimpers and weeps, yowls and howls, wails and bawls.

Jack:  Have you lost yourself, Black Cat? Wherefore art thou your ease and your content like the Buddha? Wherefore art thou your bliss and your sublimity like the Christ? You are the Deity among the field, and you shed tear? These white cats all wear the same coats, and you, you care not to wear. Certainly, something is misleading here, as you are All Right in being, but sorrowfully, not alright in being as well.

The black cat then hisses, then moos, then oinks, then ribbits, and then squeaks like a mouse.

Jack:  For she knows not what she is – which is Divine; like all things, by Universal Law. Lower me down, Gospel. For it is down I must go, as this is the case for The Law of Ascension, which is also Universal Law.

Gospel unhooks her tiny claws from Jack’s stemming mind, flutters eloquently and charmingly over to his neck, and then with two ivory-pearl teeth – she bites down hard. Jack miniaturizes and shrinks down in size; and then nose-dives from the air to stick the landing upon the right paw of the black cat where, hearken, one of the Cat Claws have disappeared.

Jack:  What is your pain, Amoeba?

An amoeba named Amore stands mournfully weeping.

Amore Amoeba:  Please, Sir, but my name is Amore, and my pain is this absence of a full. It is a disappearance of wonderment; for one cannot even begin to puzzle-piece together how a puzzle-piece of a wholesome un-puzzled being can be de-puzzled, sacked and stolen. It is a tragic travesty of Tyranny and a Luciferian demonic demise that holds fast to an Elitist controlling ego – to dare rob from a Deity. To not be wholesome is one thing, but to have been wholesome Once Upon a Time, and then to have had it devilishly pirated from you is Hell rising.

Jack:  Where are the pirating pests in this pesky predicament? You say that the One Who Was Once Whole has been de-puzzled, sacked and stolen; and I say who? Who are the scoundrels that cause this absence of a full?

Amore:  Perhaps they are the Pests – the Titan ones who are the only ones that can heave and ho the heavy Cat Claw. They are a rotten bunch, so rotten that they dost not even fancy one another. They are blood suckers, and hungry hounds. Irritators and imitators, and bottom feeders and sinful cheaters with peeking dismal fevers – all sick and ill, indeed.

Jack:  These pirating pests will be pirated themselves. Justice will be served, Amore. Just point to the quarter and I shall make fast in my travels.

Amore: (points south) Do you know what the good part is about going South, Jack?

Jack:  What is that, Amore?

Amore:  If you care to walk it long enough, you will always end up heading back North from whence you started.

Jack:  Then let us walk for miles, Amore.

Jack walks 900 miles, which translates to 9 miles on real earth, and approaches a fat tick named Tyranny.

Jack:  You slob of a cell sucking blood sucker, wherefore art thou the Cat Claw?

Tyranny Tick:  Delinquent. Stupid animal. You ought to be exterminated and burned off of the grid you no good goat. Damn cattle, get back with the herd. Your death is sought for.

Jack:  My death is sought for? You are the blood sucker and the hungry hound. You are the irritator and the imitator; the bottom feeder and sinful cheater with the peeking dismal fever – sick and ill indeed.

Tyranny:  And you, you are no different than a lab rat whose forced objective in life is to be a slave for the scientist. You want your precious Cat Claw? I possess it not, for I traded it for the cell that I have in this little box-shaped-cage. I am told it is a Magic Cell, and so the trade was no blood off of my tongue.

Jack:  Who dost you trade it to, you Parasitic Rot?

Tyranny:  Dost a scientist care for telling his rat a thing?

Jack leaps at Tyranny, arranges him with an arm-lock and forces Tyranny’s mouth to the skin of the cat – which Tyranny cannot help but to vacuum his lips to for a blood-sucking quench.

Jack:  Robbin Hood, Gospel, the Magic Cell!

Gospel flutters eloquently and charmingly over to the cage and snags the Magic Cell. Tyranny’s eyes bulge. Jack & Gospel make off South. Tyranny rips his suckered lips off of the source and makes haste after Jack & Gospel.

Tyranny:  Goat!

Jack:  Like lightning, Gospel!

Jack runs 900 miles South, which translates to 9 miles on real earth, which is still a very long run. He catches a breath when he stumbles upon a lice named Luciferian.

Jack:  You slob of a cell sucking blood sucker, wherefore art thou the Cat Claw?

Luciferian Lice:  Delinquent. Stupid animal. You ought to be exterminated and burned off of the grid you no good goat. Damn cattle, get back with the herd. Your death is sought for.

Jack:  My death is sought for? You are the blood sucker and the hungry hound. You are the irritator and the imitator; the bottom feeder and sinful cheater with the peeking dismal fever – sick and ill indeed.

Luciferian:  And you, you are no different than a lab rat whose forced objective in life is to be a slave for the scientist. You want your precious Cat Claw? I possess it not, for I traded it for the cell that I have in this little box-shaped-cage. I am told it is a Magic Cell, and so the trade was no blood off of my tongue.

Jack:  Who dost you trade it to, you Parasitic Rot?

Luciferian:  Dost a scientist care for telling his rat a thing?

Jack leaps at Luciferian, arranges him with an arm-lock and forces Luciferian’s mouth to the skin of the cat – which Luciferian cannot help but to vacuum his lips to for a blood-sucking quench.

Jack:  Robbin Hood, Gospel, the Magic Cell!

Gospel flutters eloquently and charmingly over to the cage and snags the magic cell. Luciferian’s eyes bulge, and so he rips off his lips from the source – as Tyranny Tick arrives.

Tyranny:  Goat!

Luciferian:  Rodent!

Jack:  Like lightning, Gospel!

Jack & Gospel make off South, with Tyranny and Luciferian on their tails.

Tyranny:  Goat!

Luciferian:  Rodent!

Jack runs 900 miles South, which translates to 9 miles on real earth, which is especially decent considering his past, and is attempted to be halted by a flea named Elitist.

Elitist:  Delinquent! Stupid animal! You ought to be exterminated and burned off of the grid you no good goat! Damn cattle! Get back with the herd! Your death is sought for!

Jack:  Make way, Parasitic Rot!

Jack tackles the flea, dives into a somersault, pops up, grabs the Magic Cell inside of the box-shaped-cage, and continues his marathon with 3 parasites on his tail.

Tyranny:  Goat!

Luciferian:  Rodent!

Elitist:  Cattle!

Jack completes the Journey’s Cycle and espies over yonder the Amoeba who stands by the missing Cat Claw.

Amoeba:  Ah, it is a splendid sight to see a journey that has gone so far South, trail back onward to the North from whence it began. Do you have the Cat Claw Jack?

Jack:  No! I have 3 Magic Cells and 3 pests on my tail!

Amore:  Burry the cells, Jack.

Jack stuffs the magic cells into the void of the Cat Claw. Tyranny, Luciferian and Elitist arrive.

Tyranny:  Goat!

Luciferian:  Rodent!

Elitist:  Cattle!

Jack:  Parasitic Rot!

With open mouths, they strut towards Jack, the Pumpkin Headed Son of the Earth.

Jack:  Grow!

Like a quickened switchblade, the Cat Claw zings. Like a shish-cabob, it pierces Tyranny, Luciferian and Elitist through their frigid hearts.

Tyranny:  …Goat…

Luciferian:  …Rodent…

Elitist:  …Cattle…

Jack:  This new Cat Claw is Gold, Amore.

Amore:  So, it is. And so, it is I who have known it all along. It is I who have stolen the Cat Claw from the start. It is I who have arranged for the trading. For you see, I know personally a Mystic who’s profession it is to conjure up these Magic Cells; and so, she has much to spare. Well, I had a chat with her, and we arranged it so that I would surrender the Cat Claw over to the first pest that I found and would inform him of an even better trade for the Cat Claw that was right down the bend; for I informed him that if “Ye would just visit the Mystic and see.”, things would go a’right. Once fooled, I would collect back the Cat Claw from the Mystic and trade it again to the next culprit – and so the cycle goes; 3 in a row. And then I went and prized the beloved Mystic with the beloved Cat Claw, and she blessed me belovedly with a beloved Magic Cell.

Jack:  You are the scoundrel who causes the absence of the full? For what is to come of your lying tongue, Amore?

Amore:  Liar, yes. Scoundrel, nay. For do you not bear witness, Jack? The Cat Claw is Gold. To kill something to death and then to send it South into Hades will only resurrect it back to the Heaven of life – richer than it was, indeed. For the Law of Ascension is this: To Ascent, one must first Descent – so that it gives you the means to Ascension. It is the Universal Law, Jack.

Jack:  I am no fool, Amore. What is the point in sending me on a rabbit-hunting goose-chase whilst possessing the Magic Cells all along?

Amore:  Dost one not know? The Gods goldenly fulfill the ones who dost try goldenly. For without your hard attempt and your South descent, this Cat Claw would not grow Gold as it did. The Gods goldenly fulfill the ones who dost try goldenly, and so here is your Magic Cell. (reveals cell)

Gospel flutters eloquently and charmingly over to Amore, snags the Magic Cell, pops the top of Jack’s head off, and drops the Magic Cell inside of it. He grows to natural height, and the black cat purrs.

Jack:  You are wholesomely Divine, now. Show your strength.

The cat roars.

Letter from Jack O’Lantern:

And so, it is said, that when the night sky bears the picturesque claw of a golden crescent moon, that amongst the farm field of white fluffy cats, the black cat embarks a steep climb up into the tallest tree of the field, and reaches out her golden Cat Claw to trace over the golden moon that is in the starry night sky. The white fluffy cats pay their reverential respects, and worship the Divine black cat, as the Divinity, that is the Moon-Goddess.

Abracadabra.

 

COPY @ 2019 JACK O’LANTERN