by Chris Genoa
11
I told you! I told you!
Randy danced around outside the barn. “Dale! Dale, can you hear me? Is the naked man in there with you? What about the sacbut thing? Dale!”
Randy pounded on the barn door as he shouted, but there was no response. In fact, there were no sounds at all coming from the barn, not even the sounds of turkeys gobbling.
Just as Randy was about to smash the barn door lock with his hammer, he heard a giggle from behind him. John Alden sat slumped against a tree, with a giddy smile on his face. It was then that Randy noticed that the large oak tree behind the barn looked an awful lot like the tree outside the window in his Dad’s Freedom from What? painting.
“What are you laughing at?” Randy asked.
John chuckled again. “Why, you of course.”
“Me? Another man is laughing at me? This is a first. Usually only the gods have the nerve to do such a thing.”
“It’s because you’re about to see something rather unpleasant, that’s all. You’re going to walk through those doors, and then, no more than a few seconds later, you’re going to come running out with a most ridiculous look on your face. I was just sitting here trying to imagine what that face will look like. I finally settled on this.”
John Alden opened his mouth as wide as he possibly could without tearing his lips apart. Then he sent his eyebrows flying toward his hairline and let out a muffled, tortured, high-pitched scream that sounded like it came from a mouse imprisoned deep within his belly. After screaming until he ran out of breath, John fell over laughing.
Randy gave it a few moments and then asked, “Are you done?”
“For now.” John wiped the tears from his eyes.
“For now and for ever. Because if you think I’m about to come running out of that barn looking like this.” Randy made the face. “Then I’m afraid that you, sir, are grossly mistaken. You see, I am a proud man.” Randy turned and smashed the lock apart with his hammer. “And I always maintain a certain level of dignity and poise. Now, I am going into this here barn. Shortly after, I’m going to come out with my friend. And when I do you can be certain that I will have my chin up, my jaw clenched, and my stride shall be casual, confident, and dignified.”
“If you say so.”
“I do say so. And now I’m going to do so.”
Randy opened the door just enough that he could fit through, and in he went. The visibility wasn’t very good without the beams of light, but there was a small fire burning behind a stack of hay near the center of the barn. Randy made his way toward that, stepping over and around the turkeys as he did so. Randy did his best to try to ignore the fact that the turkeys, all hundred or so of them, were standing perfectly still and weren’t making any noise whatsoever.
They’re probably just tired, thought Randy, I could do with a spot of zoning out myself. Nothing to freak out about. Just a bunch of tired turkeys. Stay the course, Tinker. Remember your dignity.
The fire cast long shadows on the sides of the barn. The smaller, motionless turkey shadows didn’t concern Randy too much. But the two longer shadows, one of which moved about, did. As he got closer to the stack of hay, Randy heard someone talking.
“I cannot believe you’ve never played a crumhorn before,” said the voice. “You simply blow into the mouthpiece and move your fingers up and down the holes. It couldn’t be simpler.”
Randy peeked around the corner of the haystack. He immediately wished he hadn’t. For standing there with his back to Randy was a naked half-man, half-bird creature, with the upper body of a snow white-skinned man and the legs of a turkey. It was a manbird, with a wild mane of black hair sitting atop his head.
Dale stood next to manbird, holding a long wooden instrument that looked like a clarinet of some kind, only the end of it was curved out in a J-shape. Randy gathered that this strange half-man was trying to teach Dale how to play it.
Randy looked down and saw that all of the turkeys gathered around the fire were holding various instruments in their wings and feet. Whether it was a small drum or a guitar-like instrument, they all looked rather comfortable holding them. Much too comfortable for Randy’s taste.
Dale saw Randy, and his eyes went wide as he gave his brother-in-law a look that said We’re in grave danger and we need to get out of here. In return, Randy gave Dale a look that said Yeah I know but what the hell do you want me to do about it? There’s a goddamn manbird standing between us.
Manbird followed Dale’s next look, which was one of Just hit manbird over the head with something heavy, and he too now saw Randy’s head sticking out from behind the hay.
With the manbird now facing him full on, Randy saw that the creature had no penis and no pubic hair to speak of.
“Well I’ll be damned,” Randy said, “no flap-dragon.”
“Oh, hello there,” said manbird. “You’re just in time. Tell me, do you know how to play the crumhorn?”
Randy shook his head.
“No? I simply cannot believe this. Two full-grown men who don’t know how to play the crumhorn? What am I supposed to do, walk around with these silly legs for the rest of my life? I’ll be a laughing stock. Look, it’s simple. I’ll show you.”
Manbird took the crumhorn out of Dale’s hands, put it to his lips, and began dancing and playing. He blew the horn and moved his fingers up and down the holes so fast that his fingers were a blur. He spun, squat-kicked, stomped, leapt and wiggled on his turkey legs. His dancing eventually put him right in the middle of the fire, feet atop the burning wood and flames licking at his turkey legs.
“See?” he said. “It couldn’t be easier. Now you try.” He held out the crumhorn for Randy.
Randy went flying out of the barn with his mouth stretched wide in a broken scream. John Alden was there to greet him, jumping up and down and shouting, “I told you! I told you!”
As Randy ran past him, John Alden heard a swell of music loft out from the barn. He shook his head and frowned. “That is the worst fobbing crumhorn playing I’ve ever heard.”
Crumhorn in my mouth
A weird man dances in flames
November! Aiyee!
12
A Most Best Laid Plan
Excerpt from the diary of John Alden
February 17, 1621
As dawn approached, Mr. Ely returned to the common house. Captain Standish and the Reverend were there to meet him with their muskets raised.
“What is the meaning of this?” asked Ely.
Bradford came out from the shadows, still wearing the chemise.
“Silence, Jasper,” he said. “Yes, we know who you are, Jasper Eberly. You, swine, are a villainous witch! Are you not?”
“Perhaps,” said Mr. Ely.
“Ah ha! Only a witch would say perhaps!”
“Then I change my answer.”
“To what?”
“To maybe.”
“You are a witch!” said the Reverend. “There is no maybe about it!”
“Jasper Eberly,” said Bradford, puffing out his chest, “you are Satan’s honey-tongued nose-herb. You have brought this plague of illness upon our member, causing untold suffering and death. You have conjured those Savages out of the unholy soil and sent them against us. It was you, and not the smoking of tobacco whilst laying the thatch, that caused our dwellings to catch fire. You made it bitterly cold. You made it snow a lot. Finally, you made me eat more than my fair share of the biscuits on many, many occasions. What say you to these indisputable facts?”
“I say you have all gone yeasty.”
“The time for lies has past,” said the Reverend. “I remember you from the Essex witch trial. You’ve escaped on the back of a flying goat for the last time, Jasper Eberly.”
“Furthermore, we saw you dancing and sinning with that deer,” said Standish.
“Have you ever danced with a deer, Captain?” asked Mr. Ely.
“Of course not.”
“Would you like to?” asked Ely, who
had suddenly transformed himself into a rather stunning deer. He coyly batted his eyelashes over his bright deer eyes.
“Stop that, Eberly!” Bradford shouted. “I order you to turn back into a man!”
The deer pouted and then sighed. “Not until you tell me what you intend to do to me.”
“Very well, deer witch,” said Bradford. “We are giving you two options. One, we burn you tonight. Two, you atone for your crimes by using your Evil once more, but this time for Good.”
A twinkle flashed in the deer’s eyes. “Using Evil for Good again, eh?”
“Does anyone else find it odd that we are negotiating with a deer?” the Reverend asked. “Just me? Fine.”
“Cast a spell over the Auwaog,” said Bradford, “like you did to William Button. Turn them all into some form of beast that we can easily defeat. Do this, and you shall live.”
The deer looked out the window and considered this. “Do you all swear to this deal?”
We all agreed, and Eberly transformed back into a man.
“Then I accept,” he said. “What would you like me to turn them into? Shall I pick something?”
“I’m wise to your tricks, witch,” said Standish. “If you had your way you would turn them into monstrous snakes or foul tempered beavers. Not on my watch. We want them to be something harmless. Perhaps some form of fowl.”
“How about turkeys?” I said, “They’re a most harmless and beef-witted bird.”
“I was thinking of water fowl, such as ducks, but yes, turkeys will do just fine. Make it so, Eberly.”
“Very well. But before I begin, I must inform you that there is a third party in this deal, for I am just a man, and am thusly not capable of such Evil. All I can do is ask the Devil to make it happen. That’s all witches do. We ask, and he delivers. But he always asks for something small in return. As the spell is your desire, he will want something from you.”
“Well then out with it,” said Standish. “What does that Swine ask of us?”
Eberly closed his eyes and muttered an incantation. It sounded like “ooba booba hoo yip hoo yip tata tata.” Then he smiled, opened his eyes, and spoke.
“After the spell has been cast, all of the Auwaog turkeys, every last one of them, must be killed. If any of them live, the Devil will bewitch you until you uphold your end of the deal.”
“Won’t the turkeys all eventually die on their own?” asked Standish.
“The Auwaog shall not age, nor will they succumb to illness,” said Eberly. “And neither will any of you until the Auwaog are all dead.”
“So we could live forever?” I asked. “That will be our curse?”
“Among other things, yes.”
“Seems like more of a reward than a punishment.”
Eberly smiled. “Perhaps.”
“The devil is right,” Standish said, “To live forever in this wild world, and to never taste the sweet reward of God’s serene love, is the greatest punishment of all. Tell me, devil, when will the transformation take place?”
“Whenever you wish.”
“We’ll make it at sunrise,” said Standish. “All of us will then take up position around the Auwaog village. We will wait for the transformation and then immediately wipe them all out with our fowling pieces. They won’t know what hit them.”
“That sounds like a most best laid plan, Captain,” Eberly agreed.
To cast the spell properly, Eberly informed us that he had to be dangerously close to the Auwaog village, which was miles from Plymouth. It was decided that Standish and I, being the younger and stronger of the four, would escort him there. Bradford and the Reverend would get some rest and then meet us there at sunrise. So with muskets in hand, and Eberly in shackles, Standish and I set out with the full moon lighting our way.
When we reached the small clearing where we encountered the Savage Boy the other day, Eberly said we were close enough. He knelt down and grabbed a handful of dirt, smelt it deeply, and then let it fall slowly between his fingers. Then he unbuckled his shoes and placed them beneath a tree. Next he took off his shirt, folded it neatly, and laid it on top of his shoes. He did the same with his pants. Then he began to remove his undergarments, which was when we saw where this was going.
“Stop, stop it,” Standish said. “What’s the meaning of this, Eberly?”
“What’s the meaning of what?”
“Do you think we’re a couple of pignuts? We know what’s going on here. Sinning, that’s what.”
“But I must. The Devil requires that a spell of this magnitude be cast in total and utter nudity. Look, I don’t make up the rules. If you have a complaint you’ll have to make it directly to Beelzebub. Would you like me to lodge a complaint for you? Arrange for a meeting? I could do that. But just so you know, the meeting will have to take place on the back of a flying hairless goat, with Satan in the form of a mother mouse, and you in the form of a newborn mouse, sucking on his little teats.”
“Nude it is then.”
Eberly took off his undergarments and stood before us wearing only his hat. Standish and I tried not to look too closely at him, but we couldn’t help noticing that the area between his legs, where the nuts and berries should be, was flat and smooth. In short, he had no flap-dragon.
With his eyes closed, knees bent, and hands cupped around his mouth, Jasper Eberly sang a soft la la la melody. It seemed to be a call of some sort, and indeed it was, because out from the woods soon came a forest creature.
It was a small rabbit, and, strangely, it stood upright, and walked on its hind legs. Stranger still, it was lee lee lee’ing to answer Eberly’s la la la’ing.
After the rabbit, there came a fox, also walking on its hinds legs and singing. Then came a deer, a skunk, an opossum, a mole, a shrew, a chipmunk, a muskrat, a porcupine, and a raccoon, all of them walking on their hind legs and lee lee lee’ing. Finally a turkey emerged from the woods.
When the creatures had all gathered around Eberly, they stopped singing, and all bowed their heads in silence.
“Um, Eberly?” The Captain stepped forward. “Could I, uh, have a word?”
The animals responded in unison with a stern “Shhhhhhhhhh!” which sent the Captain scuttling back. He pulled me aside and whispered, “John, this is madness.”
While the animals softly hummed around him, Eberly used nearby twigs to build a small fire in the middle of the gathering. Then he passed around a wooden cup, which all of the animals spat into. The opossum brought the cup over to Standish and I, and would not leave until we, too, spat into it. Once we did so, the cup was given back to Eberly, who dumped it into the fire. The flames grew higher.
From only the Devil knows where, the animals procured sundry musical instruments. They must have gotten them whilst my eyes were on the fire, because one moment they were all empty-handed, and the next thing I knew they were all dancing and playing the strangest music I had ever heard. The rabbit plucked a hurdy-gurdy, the fox blew on his crumhorn and the deer on his sacbut. The skunk next to him blew on a dulcian so hard I thought his head would explode. The mole wildly plucked a lute, and the porcupine banged on a harpsichord in a most violent manner. And then there was the raccoon, who marched around the fire whilst tooting on a 3-holed pipe with one hand and tapping a small tabor drum, hung from his wrist, with the other. The other creatures, such as the chipmunk and muskrat, formed a small choir. The words they sang were in Latin, and the music they played was like something you would expect to hear in the insane asylum.
Jasper Eberly danced around the fire in a most unmuzzled manner, with his arms and legs flailing about. He soon took the turkey in his arms and danced with it. The turkey, far from minding this, bobbed its head along to the music.
Then Eberly threw the turkey into the fire. But instead of burning, the bird floated betwixt the flames, rotating round and round. It must have felt no pain since it continued to bob its head merrily to the music.
Suddenly, the music stopped and the fire went out. Eberl
y grabbed the turkey before it fell to the ground, and held the bird high above his head. The other animals dropped their instruments and rushed in close to him, so that we could only see Eberly’s hands on the turkey above the crowd of beasts. They held this position for quite some time, none of them moving even an inch.
“What are they doing?” Standish whispered.
“I don’t know. They appear to be frozen. Perhaps Satan turned them all into statues.”
“Perhaps. Go over there and pinch the mole on the rump. See if it reacts.”
“I’m not pinching that mole on the rump.”
“I’m the Captain here, Alden. I order you to pinch that mole’s rump.”
“Fine. But if that thing turns around and bites my flap-dragon, you’re going to have to bandage it.”
Just as my fingers were about to close on the mole’s rump, the ground began to shake in a most frightful manner. It was as if the entire Earth was boiling. Then a column of light burst up from the ground under Eberly. It was so sudden and brilliant that it gave me quite a fright, and sent me scampering back to the Captain.
Both Eberly and the bird were drawn upward into the light. They rose high enough so that Eberly’s feet were visible over the animals. He still held the turkey above his head.
Then another light shot sideways through the air and intersected the column, forming a cross of light with Ely and the turkey suspended in the middle. The light became brighter and brighter, until Standish and I had to shield our eyes from it.
“Do you think the Savages can see this?” I asked Standish.
“Forget the Savages. I’m sure God Himself can see this.”
As quickly as it appeared, the light retreated to from whence it came. The animals all scattered with it, leaving the clearing and returning to the woods in all directions.
All that was left in the clearing was the turkey, standing on top of Eberly’s hat, which sat atop the ashes of the fire. Atop the bird’s head I noticed a peculiar tuft of thick black hair that I had not seen before.