Once Upon a Time in a Timeless State of Mind…

Jack, the Pumpkin Headed Son of the Earth, was backstroking in a pond full of lilies. Before your very own eye, hearken to what happens hither: A lamb by the name of Shep shepherds a stupendous farm of frogs into the water.

Jack:  What is this Frog Soup? You spill on me a toad-spell? What is the meaning of this plague? Who are you, and what dost your endeavor implicate?

Shep:  I am Shep, and I am the shepherd of this farm of frogs. It is my duty to keep these croakers in line so as to make sure that nothing Luciferian destroys them. You see, my father had an intense mystic-thought about the frog, and he was vociferously in rapture over the metamorphosis phases of its life. He said it was Magick, and so let it be – it is.  I see where he is coming from, but I doth not fancy much for the role.

Jack:  Because it is no role! Tell me, what good do ye do, Shep, shepherding a stupendous farm of frogs? For what is the fruit that you squeeze out and peel? There must be a grape somewhere.

Shep:  I regret to inform you that there is nowhere a grape. For I doth not know what to make of my life, and so this is all that I have, a stupendous farm of frogs. Let me have it.

At this slick moment, a sly Coyote named King slips sneakily nearby and eats Shep, the shepherding lamb. King Coyote then slickly slips sneakily somewhere south, and a second lamb approaches whose name is Herd.

Herd:  I am Herd, and I am the new shepherd of this stupendous farm of frogs.

Jack:  Death is upon you.

Follow the Leader.

Herd:  Death upon me? Nonsense. I am a master of my trade and a grand shepherd amongst the rest. For you see, my grandfather had an intense mystic-thought about the frog, and he was vociferously in rapture over the metamorphosis phases of its life. He thought it was Magick, and so I knew that this role would be coming my way. You see, I have trained to be where I am, intently. I have farmed snails and I have farmed slugs; I have farmed hermit crabs and I have even farmed flying little lightning bugs – just to inherit my grandfather’s stupendous farm of frogs. This is a proud moment for me.

Jack:  It is longed for, Herd?

Herd:  Nay, but it is all that I do know. Let me have it.

At this slick moment, a sly Coyote named King slips sneakily nearby and eats Herd, the shepherding lamb. King Coyote then slickly slips sneakily somewhere south, and a third lamb approaches whose name is Shepherd.

Jack:  Nay, dost not say it.

Shepherd: (flat) I am Shepherd, and I am here to watch over my Great-Grandfather’s frog farm.

Jack:  Curse the frog farm! These croakers will take care of themselves like all Nature doeth. Your soul is not here, where dost your chains lead to?

Shepherd:  My Father.

Jack:  Your heart, it longs, no?

Shepherd:  It longs.

Jack:  Where dost it stretch to?

Shepherd:  It stretches to…It stretches to…Actually, I have always longed to ride on the back of a Coyote.

Jack steps out of the pond.

Jack:  Let us make haste in our travels, for it won’t be long until death is upon you like it was upon your dedicated Father, and like it was upon your miserable Grandfather as well. It is important to make way into the wood.

Shepherd:  The wood, are you mad? But that is where the packs play.

Jack:  The light resides in the darkness.

Shepherd:  But, that is where the packs play.

At this slick moment, sly King Coyote slips sneakily nearby.

Jack:  Skull & Bones now or skull & bones later?

Shepherd gulps, and into the wood they make haste.

Shepherd:  I am a dead-lamb.

Jack:  You have been a dead-lamb all along. Now you live.

Shepherd:  Do you smell that? My heart tells me to follow my nose.

Jack:  Do as the heart does, Shepherd.

(ZzzZzzZzz)

Shepherd:  Oh wow.

Behold, the million-dollar mansion of Honey Bee Hives. By two royal honey bees, the Honey Bee Queen is carried from the sky to greet Shepherd and Jack, the Pumpkin Headed Son of the Earth. Jack and Shepherd bend and bow for courtesy.

Queen:  Boys. A whisper in the air tickled my ear a bit and had told me that you may embark here. Noble is this path, Shepherd, and so I am assuming you are here for your supply. You see, Boys, the honey of my hive is a rarity, and a royalty. It is so rich that it dost not drip and seep in order to be consumed. It cannot be consumed. We possess with pride the stickiest honey that this world hath ever harvested.

Shepherd:  I am here for my supply, Queen.

Queen:  It is already presented for you behind the trunk of the tree.

Jack walks behind the tree and picks up 2 jars of honey.

Shepherd:  I think that I have an idea. But it is dark and eerie like the inside of a whale’s belly.

Queen:  Light resides in the darkness, Boy.

Shepherd:  We must find out where the packs play.

In concert together, a tribe of Coyotes sing from afar.

Shepherd:  Do you hear? My heart tells me to follow my ear.

Jack:  Do as the heart does, Shepherd.

Jack and Shepherd follow their ears, and peek out an eye from behind a tree upon a hill. The pack of coyotes play in the pit.

Jack:  What is your plan?

Shepherd:  To stick a coyote to the ground.

Jack:  Ah, so that one may trample over it and be frozen where it stands.

Shepherd:  Then I will hop on.

Like a bowler, Jack rolls 1 jar of honey down the hill. It bounces off of a rock, cracks and spreads where the pack plays. King Coyote walks over it – unstuck – and takes a lick off of his paw.

Shepherd:  It is not powerful enough. I have failed.

Jack:  You are stuck in the mud? It is an immovable object? Dost you not know that an unstoppable force fates to always arrive at its destination? You are already a dead-lamb one day afar, and here you are to slaughter yourself before the day is due.

Shepherd:  There is the yarn left by a spider attached to your foot. My heart tells me to follow my eyes.

Jack:  Do as the heart does, Shepherd.

With their eyes, they follow the spider’s yarn.

Shepherd:  Oh wow.

Behold, one million spiders in their million-dollar mansion of a jungle that drowns in webs. A spider named Spinner unwinds and lowers his being down to Shepherd and Jack, the Pumpkin Headed Son of the Earth. Jack and Shepherd bend and bow for courtesy.

Spinner:  Men. A whisper in the air tickled my ear a bit and had told me that you may embark here. Noble is this path, Shepherd, and so I am assuming you are here for your supply. You see, Men, for I am Spinner the famous spider, and the yarn that I spin is the rarest and royalist around. It is herculean and bold, and gold, in make. For I possess it with pride, the strongest yarn that this world hath ever harvested.

Shepherd:  I am here for my supply, Spinner.

Spinner:  It is already presented for you behind the trunk of the tree.

Jack walks behind the tree and picks up a spool of yarn.

Shepherd:  I think that I have an idea. But it is dark and eerie like the inside of a whale’s belly.

Spinner:  Light resides in the darkness, Man.

Shepherd:  We must go back to where the packs play.

They arrive behind the tree upon the hill above the pit where the packs play.

Jack:  What is your plan?

Shepherd:  To lasso a Coyote.

Jack:  Ah, let us aim for the muzzle.

Jack takes the web, knots the lasso, sends it flying, and rings the muzzle of King Coyote – who darts! And then turns and chomps it to pieces for liberation.

Shepherd:  It is not powerful enough. I have failed.

Jack:  You are stuck in the mud? It is an immovable object? Dost you not know that an unstoppable force fates to always arrive at its destination? You are already a dead-lamb one day afar, and here you are to slaughter yourself before the day is due.

A Frog hops on by, and Shepherd falls into a

…trance…

Shepherd:  I wonder…I am…touched with an idea. And thy heart tells me to follow thy touch.

Jack:  Doeth as your heart doth, Shepherd.

…trance…

Shepherd:  …I am a dead-lamb…

Hearken hither to the brilliant elegancy of this simple idea: A lasso is hidden in the dirt, where the packs play. And if you do your best to eye and spy out where the yarn does lead, you will follow it up into the sky above the pit and over a high branch upon the tall tree upon the hill – but it dost not deteriorate there. Because, if you travel with your eyes to where the string travels, it angles from the branch and ends up on the hill with a lasso that is tied around Shepherds waist.

Shepherd:  I am a dead-lamb.

Jack:  You are alive.

Like a bowler, Jack rolls 1 jar of honey down the hill. It bounces off of a rock, cracks and spreads where the lasso lays. From the wood, the Coyotes arrive to feast.

Shepherd:  I am a dead-lamb.

Jack:  You are alive.

Shepherd:  Pull-it.

Jack grabs the rope, pulls it, muzzles King Coyote – and King Coyote darts! And there goes Shepherd, in the sky! Shepherd hits his head on the branch; it chokes back King Coyote, who turns and chomps it to pieces. Shepherd falls and sticks the landing on King Coyote’s back – who bucks, and bucks, and bucks – but hear this mystical phantasmagoria in all of its glory: For each buck that the Coyote bucks, a physical attribute changes on Shepherd.

Buck 1:  Ears shorten.

Buck 2:  Tail lengthens.

Buck 3:  Shepherd turns into Coyote.

The chaos halts, and the Coyotes bend and bow in reverence, to Shepherd.

KingCoyote:  Hail, King Coyote.

Shepherd:  I am?

Jack:  Light resides in the darkness, King.

Shepherd:  I am alive.

Jack:  You are a dead-lamb.

Shepherd:  Oh wow.

Great-Grandfather Lamb:  Hail Metamorphosis. Hail Magick.

Abracadabra.

 

 

COPY @ 2019 JACK O’LANTERN