The large pumpkin-headed man showed off his new black shirt and green trousers to his yellow gourd-headed friend. The shirt and trousers had the bizarre attribute of movement, the fabric never ceased.
‘Like wheat in a windy field, your shirt and pantaloons sway,’ said Gourd.
Pumpkin ran his fingers over his new outfit. ‘This is a special fabric,’ he explained. ‘A very, very special fabric. Made by the magic man of Lynn Woods.’
‘Magic?’ asked Gourd. ‘Are you sure?’
Pumpkin replied, ‘Three hundo percent sure. I witnessed him give the gift of speech to a tree stump.’
Pumpkin remembered the day… The noon sun had glowed divinely through the canopy…
The tree stump coughed, opened unfamiliar eyes, and said, ‘I cannot move.’ Then louder. ‘I canNOT MOVE.’ Then screaming from the mossy ground. ‘I CANNOT MOVE. I WILL NEVER MOVE.’ The tree stump tried to look at Pumpkin. It cried out. ‘TURN ME BACK TO DYING BARK AND ROOTS. TURN ME BACK.’
‘What shall it be?’ the magic man asked Pumpkin.
‘Eh?’ Pumpkin muttered.
‘Shall I turn the stump back to uselessness?’ asked the magic man.
‘It appears you should. The stump seems deranged.’
The tree stump wiggled and wept sap and groaned and moaned. Many small critters dashed from the area.
The magic man blinked and the talking tree stump erupted into flames. The stump shrieked. The leaves above shook. A crow screamed in reply and took flight. The tree stump jostled and wailed. ‘SUCH PAIN,’ it screeched.
The magic man howled, ‘EXQUISITE SUFFERING.’ His chuckling was grotesque.
After some time, the tree stump ceased its caterwauling and simply crackled and cooked. As the forest darkened around them, the dead tree stump burned into a lump of neon orange embers…
‘He scorched the tree stump,’ Gourd whispered, ruminating on his friend’s unusual tale.
Pumpkin nodded. ‘To death. It took so long. It burned and screamed and screamed and burned.’
‘And then, what? The magic man made your new shirt and pantaloons?’
‘I didn’t even ask—he just conjured them onto my body.’
‘What do you think of this magic man?’ asked Gourd.
‘I think,’ Pumpkin began but paused to consider. ‘I think he’s plainly evil. However, he cares about fashion. Therefore, in toto, the magic man is not to be trifled with. Beware him if you can, Gourd. BEWARE.’
Gourd fingered at the hole in his left trouser pocket. ‘He’s in the Lynn Woods, eh?’ Gourd fantasized of a fresh pair of fantastic trousers around his legs, woven of fabric that could read the minds of other fruits and vegetables. He smiled a weird and ridiculous smile.
‘You’re not thinking of finding that wicked magic man?’ Pumpkin asked, concerned.
‘Oh, now he’s wicked?’ Gourd rolled his eyes.
‘I STATED THAT HE WAS QUITE PLAINLY EVIL,’ Pumpkin hollered. ‘HE CAN TURN YOU TO FLAMES, MY CHUM, MY FRIEND OF ALL FRIENDS.’
‘I need new pantaloons,’ Gourd said, still wearing that peculiar grin across his yellow face.
Pumpkin begged his chum. ‘I shall take you to Macy’s for new trousers. The bus fare is on me.’ He placed his arm around Gourd’s shoulders and together they walked to the bus stop. Pumpkin sullied the magic man’s reputation the whole way.
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