Beware - a note from Nicholas

I awoke dazed. My eyes could not focus. The sunlight, pallid and dim, showed me dense trees and bracken spreading out for as far as I could see. There almost seemed to be a fog; the air was thick, as if the humidity of summer could not escape trough the canopy.

I was also very naked.

I remembered nothing of how I came to be in the woods, and, well, nothing of the day itself. The last thing that I could recall clearly was cleaning Chestnut's ashes from the garage floor. Then... blinding light, pain, and no more.

I shivered. A chill ran down my spine. I was being watched. I looked around, aware of my vulnerability, becoming more and more frightened as the seconds lapsed. What if it was the owls? Was this their doing? Were they finally coming to take their vengeance upon me for all the years I had spent lighting them on fire (and throwing paper balls at them)?

There was a whispering in the brush nearby, then in the canopy above. Whatever it was, it could move quickly. With each rustle of leaves, it seemed to draw closer. I looked around frantically, always catching movement out of the corner of my eye. Why was it toying with me? Why didn't it just finish it?

Then it stopped.

“Wot you doin' naked?” a small voice behind me said. “Why's you city folk always gotta be so odd?” the tiny voice said, this time closer. “Oi, talkin' at you, biggun.”

A sharp finger jabbed me in my left buttocks. I spun around, and was confronted by a frail-looking, impish little figure. Horns on his head, an improbably stylish goatee on his chin, and wearing my clothes, he stood defiantly, even though he was only about two feet tall.

“Who-” I began. “I mean, what are you?” The little thing adjusted my far too baggy pants and stuck out its chest, seemingly offended.

“Who'my? Who'my?” It started. “I am Jabberwocky Jones, tha's who. And ya've been brought here to receive my message!” The forest suddenly darkened. Birds flew out from the trees, swarming about us, creating a dark, squawking womb. The little imp seemed to grow until he loomed several feet above me, rife with new sinew, ripping my clothes to shreds. A deep red light came from everywhere and nowhere, bathing him in an ominous glow. He laughed, deep and cruel, and it echoed through my skull. He bent low, so that his face was in front of my own; I could smell sulfur on his breath.

“What do you want,” I squeaked as cold sweat dripped into my eyes. “What did I do?" Jabberwocky Jones threw his head back and laughed once more; the forest shook with his contempt.

“You have done nothing, mortal,” he spoke. “ You have done nothing... of great affect to me. As I said, you are here for... a warning.” He spread his arms and looked about him. “Still, this is my kingdom. And you defile it. Heed my words and you shall not suffer my wrath.” Suddenly, he slammed his fists into the earth at my sides and put his head, once again, level with mine. He seemed to have grown even larger. Jones smiled, showing jagged teeth that had not been there before.

He paused...

“Stop littering, you sassy man! Or, I will eat your face.” Jabberwocky Jones screeched in a girly fashion, and he vanished into teensy cloud of smoke with an even teensier pop, taking with him all the baleful portent he had wished to impart upon me.

“That was anticlimactic,” I muttered to myself, confused. (I had thrown a McDonald's cup out of the window earlier.) “I guess I shouldn't litter anymore. Because he'll eat my face.” I resolved to be more careful. Because, if you litter, even once, and even if it is something so very small, Jabberwocky Jones will eat your face.

Seriously. He will eat it.

[Further notes on the dog: I noted scaffolding in the distance, from my window. The dog really is building something; and it is big...]

Check it out …

http://environment.about.com/od/pollution/a/litter.htm