A Moving Easter Story (Bowel)

The fact is well known that pagans may, by the command of Jesus, get stove up on Easter. That’s right. Jesus, working one of his miracles, may easily command that all the remaining pagans get stove up, simultaneously, on one day of the year, Easter Sunday, Julian calendar.

Bummer for an old pagan like me. Yet we pagans have learned to adapt and overcome even the most insidious of the mean spells cast our way by the Christian deities. I don’t know about the rest of the pagans, what they may do to nullify Christian curses, but Druids, when Jesus commands us to get stove up, eat grass.

Correct. Like one time Karl the Tracker Druid was off on a tracker job in the wilderness. That job was long and arduous, about the worst tracker job Karl ever undertook. For days on end, Karl survived on a little sip of water and boiled eggs he gathered up during the odd Easter Egg hunt Karl occasionally ran across out in the wilderness. For days and days just previous to that particular Easter Sunday, Karl had nothing at all to eat, except boiled eggs. Karl also had just that one little sip of water. Hold it. I almost forgot. Karl also drank up a quart of Old Crow during that interval because he was dying of thirst.

When Easter Sunday rolled around, Jesus, as usual, cast the stove up spell at the pagans. Karl was afflicted more than most. That’s right. Karl awoke before dawn, his belly swollen up very like the belly of a lady much advanced in the reproductive cycle. Karl’s moans, groans and farts resounded over hill and dale. Yet so far out in the terrible wilderness was Karl ventured, that none there was to hear him, save Prissy, Karl’s saddle horse, and Ajax, Karl’s pet mule.

Mercy! Karl was in agony. The only position Karl could assume that gave Karl the slightest relief was the most undignified, defenseless position a grown man can assume. Yet even from his most comfortable position, Karl’s farts, moans and groans resounded to the high heavens. So afflicted was Karl that he could neither explain himself, nor communicate to Prissy and Ajax what the heck was the matter.

Prissy though is a smart saddle horse. Hmmm, thought Prissy. Goodness! What’s today? I know, today must be Easter Sunday of the Julian. And Karl must be stove up, enchanted, afflicted by a wicked spell. Yet I know just what to do.

Listen up Ajax. I have a plan to save Karl.

Really. What’s wrong with Karl? He seems normal to me.

That’s because you have not been paying attention. You Ajax, have sequestered yourself in mule world, that strange plane of existence between the more usual and regular horse and donkey spirit worlds.

If you say so, Prissy.

Anyway Ajax, what you need to do to save Karl is go find some grass. But not just any grass. Find Karl some grass that is high in moisture content. You know Ajax, wet grass, just the opposite of cured hay. Then, instead of eating up all that wet grass, you need to bring some of it back here for Karl. Only wet grass can save Karl now.

What are you fixing to do Prissy, while I go get the wet grass?

I am fixing to stay here and guard Karl. Some predator could easily sneak up and get Karl while he is helpless in that assumed position.

Anon, Ajax trotted off. Long Ajax searched the wilderness for wet grass. Yet wet grass was scanty in those parts at that time. But at last Ajax, after enduring a long trot and even more walking, and a gallop or two actually smelled wet grass right under his nose.

But by then though, Ajax was hungry and thirsty. Ajax started nuzzling up the wet grass. Um. That wet grass was good. So good that anon, as he dined, Ajax allowed his mind to wander off into that dreamy plane of existence known as mule world, where even the horses and donkeys dare not venture.

Meantime, Prissy was protecting Karl from the predators. For example, a party of Republicans came along right after Ajax departed. Had it not been for Prissy, those Republicans would certainly have taken advantage of Karl’s assumed position. But Prissy, neighing fiercely and kicking up her heels chased those Republicans off.

As time passed, more predators and still more predators arrived. Karl and brave Prissy were totally surrounded by potential predatory evil doers. Prissy wondered, Where is that mule?

Turns out, Ajax ate up plenty of wet grass himself, then took a nap, resting up on that dreamy plane of existence known as mule world. Eventually, Ajax woke up, refreshed and fairly alert. Uh, oh, surmised Ajax. Then Ajax remembered all that Prissy had told him to do. Expeditiously, Ajax gathered up a great many tufts of wet grass in his mouth, chomped at his bit, and headed back in the same general direction he had come.

Together, Ajax and Prissy coaxed Karl. Karl, look what we have for you Karl. Some nice wet grass. Um. It’s delicious. What’s more, this nice wet grass shall loosen you up. Please Karl. Eat your wet grass before the predators get you.

Eventually Karl managed to eat the wet grass Ajax had fetched. That was the only time Karl ever ate wet grass covered with mule slobber. Yet that wet grass covered with mule slobber saved Karl. Soon Karl was as regular as ever, with one difference. For a day or two, Karl’s mind could wander along in that strange realm, mule world, where generally only mules can go.