Making
contact with Medusa, Cyclops wrapped both of his hands tightly around her neck
and lifted her straight up off the ground. Their eyes locked together. She was waiting for the transformation to
start – the transformation that would turn her attacker into a helpless slab of
rock. Cyclops, keeping his left hand securely wrapped around her throat, moved
his right hand down and brought it around behind her. She started gasping for air
– wondering why this creature was not turning to stone. Cyclops began pushing
and twisting his arms with such force that her backbone would surely break
under the pressure. He had conquered worse than her with his bare hands before.
Face to face, their eyes never losing contact with each other. Medusa’s neck was
twisted so far to her right that she felt that at any moment she would hear it
snap. Their eyes, their lips within inches of each other – she could feel his beer and fried
chicken breath on her face. Medusa, near helpless in his arms but still
determined that she could get him to turn to stone at any moment, was on the
brink of passing out when… Cyclops loosened his grip around her throat, brought
her lips to his and kissed her.
He continued
to look into her eyes and, now cradling her in his massive arms, he kissed her
again.
As the
tension rapidly drained from each of their bodies, violence turned to kindness;
war turned to peace; anger turned to calmness; aggression turned to compassion
– and then the physical metamorphosis began. Medusa’s skin started to lighten
and smooth, scales began to disappear. Her fangs retracted and her hands, which were
once claw-like and grotesque, became soft, gentle and petite. One by one, the
snakes began to die and fall from her head until she was totally bald – the full
moon shining brightly on her bare scalp.
“Hmm,” said
the Cyclops. “I think that look becomes you!”
“I'm thinking I might want to get a wig,” replied Medusa. She started kissing him again.
Behind the
caretaker’s house, next to the patio, the lid on one of the trash cans lifted
ever so slightly – just enough for two eyes to peer out to see if there was any
sign of World War III or maybe even Armageddon. Other than what miraculously seemed to be a
still, peaceful night, the only thing that appeared to be a little out of the
ordinary was the statue of the Manticore sitting in a lawn chair with a box of
fried chicken on its lap. Young John was about to crawl out of the trash can
when suddenly the stone Manticore twisted its head as if to pop the muscles in
its neck and shoulders.
“Ahhhh! That
feels better,” said the Manticore with a raspy, crackling voice. Then little
bit by little bit, the Manticore gradually started to lose its stony appearance
as the flesh and hairy exterior covering started to reappear. He took a piece
of chicken out of the box and bit into it. As he was chewing, he glanced toward Young John peering over the top of the trash can and said, “How long have I
been asleep?”
“I’m not really sure,” answered Young John. “But I know it was about eleven or
twelve hours ago that I saw you leave that cold cut combo at the sandwich
wagon.”
“No wonder I’m so hungry,” he replied as he took another bite of the fried chicken.
“No wonder I’m so hungry,” he replied as he took another bite of the fried chicken.
Out on the
front lawn, Max suddenly sprang back to life and immediately ran over to Melvin
and started licking his stony face – eyes, mouth, nostrils – the works! James
and Albert gradually started moving about over at their scene of disaster. The
duck’s legs started twitching as its body returned to the living and breathing
world. Albert lifted himself off of the bird bath and stood up. James started kicking
at their bikes in an attempt to work himself free.
“OH GOOD GRIEF, STOP THAT!” shouted
Melvin as he reached up and knocked Max away from his face. He pulled his feet free from the John Deere, stood up and started taking in the scene around him - wondering what all had happened while he was out.
At about
that time, Young John and the Manticore came from around back. Young John,
looking over at Medusa and Cyclops still lip-locked together, hollered, “For
Pete’s sake – get a room!”
As they all
were standing in the yard, checking themselves over – feeling to make sure that
flesh was flesh once again; elbows and knees and such moved properly once again;
and that everything was back to the way it was supposed to be – Agnes, Vera and Pegasus came
walking down the path. “What the heck happened?” they started asking.
Young John
stepped up and, pointing toward Cyclops and Medusa, said, “Well, she turned the duck to
stone and then Cyclops attacked her. After that, I’m not really sure what happened.”
Medusa chimed in, “Apparently, I was unable to
concentrate my power toward someone with only one eye. I tried as hard as I could
but he just kept staring right at me with that single eye - like he was looking straight through me and – and my powers were absolutely useless. All my life, I’ve
only ever turned creatures with two eyes into stone. I really thought I was about to die and then - he kissed me." She glanced over at Cyclops with a loving look on her face and she said, "He kissed me and the horrible spell was broken.”
James and
Albert, in unison said, “Awww!”
Then
everyone, all together, “Awww!”
“Oh, just gag me!”
said the duck.
Once everyone was back at the
pavilion, they were able to push Agnes’ car out of the flower bed and get it
started. The front grill and hood were a little dinged up but it was still
driveable. Agnes and Vera offered the Manticore a ride and the three of them took
off for town. James and Albert got their bicycles untangled and, after a quick
check, determined that no mechanical damage had been done. Cyclops was planning on hanging out at
the pavilion for a little bit with Medusa and Pegasus so Young John got his
bike ready to ride back to town with Albert and James. As Young John was getting
ready to mount his J.C. Higgins ten-speed, Cyclops walked over to his Schwinn
Varsity to get something out of his rear bag.
“Here little
buddy, catch,” said Cyclops. With that, he tossed a can of transmission fluid
over to Young John Waldenthrottle.
And everyone
lived happily ever after – well, maybe everyone except for Carl. They
had all sort of forgotten about Carl Simpson. That was probably a real bummer to come back to
life temporarily only to find that you’d been locked in a coffin – and chopped into two pieces,
no less.
------------oooo------------
The next
morning, all was peaceful once again at Resthaven Cemetery. Melvin and Max got
up early and ate a hearty breakfast. Afterward, Melvin went out and started
working on the John Deere mower for a little while before he had to go unlock the
gates at eight o’clock. About thirty minutes later, people started arriving for
the graveside services of Phil the Groundhog.
And with
that, we answer the previously asked question,
“Who is that buried in Phil’s
grave out at Resthaven Cemetery?”
Oh? You
missed that question?
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