Category Archives: dreadful reimaginings

dreadful reimaginings

Jesus And The Magic Beans

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Hey, kids, it’s just in time for an Easter-themed dreadful reimagining!

So, pull up a chair, crack open a beer, and read all about Jesus and the Magic Beans!

Jesus had stopped counting the days of his wandering long ago. It was long enough ago that he had nearly forgotten when he had stopped counting.

As he walked down a muddy road, he saw a boy pulling a cow on a rope. The boy looked hungry and angry. The cow looked hungry and sick. The cow’s eyes were glazed over and its legs were covered in sores. Jesus’s heart swelled up with feeling as the boy neared him. The boy tripped forward. The cow had suddenly halted.

With a growl the boy went behind the cow and kicked it severely in its hind legs. The cow gave out a faint moan and started walking again.

“Boy,” Jesus said, “Your cow looks very sick. And you look hungry. I would like to help you.”

The boy glared at him. Jesus reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of beans. “These are magic beans. Please, take them and plant one in the ground. One bean will feed a family for an entire year. I will take your cow in exchange.”

The boy looked at Jesus and looked at his cow. He put out his hand. Jesus placed the beans in the boy’s palm. The boy dropped the cow’s rope, turned and silently walked away.

Jesus picked up the rope. “Come, gentle creature.” The cow followed Jesus.

__________________________

In the light of the moon, Jesus dipped strips of his robes into the lake water. A small pile of hay lay next to him. The cow slowly bent its head down and nibbled at the hay as Jesus gently cleansed its leg wounds with water.

Jesus abruptly looked up, distracted by a low, deep rumble. In the faint glow of the moon, he saw an enormous beanstalk shooting up into the sky.

“No,” Jesus said.

The cow mooed sadly. “It will be alright. Sleep, gentle creature.”

__________________________

The next morning, Jesus and the cow walked in the direction of the large beanstalk. They approached a humble cottage which rested right near the enormous plant.

Jesus rapped lightly on the door.

A rundown woman yanked open the door. She sneered at Jesus. “What do you want?”

The boy poked his head around her. “Mom, it’s the man who gave me the beans!”

“Alright,” the boy’s mother said. “You can come in for a bit. But get that worthless sack of dung away from our house first. He’s your problem now, not ours.”

Jesus spoke softly to the cow, patted its head, then stepped inside.

“Boy, did you not plant the beans as I told you?”

“My mum threw them all out the window when I told her how I got them. But I showed her! Look what I got!”

The boy yanked on a rope, which strangely enough produced a loud honk. A beautiful white goose came into view from around the corner, a rope tightly around his neck.

“Watch this!” said the boy. He turned to the goose. “Lay!” he shouted. The goose’s eyes were wild with fear. “LAY!” the boy shouted.

The goose started honking excitedly. The boy kicked the goose square in the chest. “LAY!!” he screamed. A golden egg fell out of the goose’s rear end.

“Boy,” Jesus asked, “where did you get this goose?” But Jesus knew where the goose had come from. He knew the goose belonged to the giant. The giant’s father had been a terrible monster, and had caused much misery and suffering. But this giant, whose name was Grover, was a tame creature. He could frighten one with talk of eating and tearing and grinding, but in truth he wouldn’t hurt a soul, and would much rather be tending to his cloud garden, growing his fruits and vegetables. And Jesus knew that the goose meant very much to Grover the giant.

“I got it fair and square. You got my cow. You’re not getting my goose,” the boy said.

“Nobody speaks to my son that way. Get out of here!” the boy’s mother snarled.

__________________________

The cow gently chewed on a small pile of hay as the stars began twinkling in the sky. Jesus drank from the lake.

He looked up as he heard the faintest music. It was the beautiful strains of a harp. And what was mixed with it? It sounded like sobbing.

“Grover,” Jesus spoke softly. “I am so sorry. Sleep peacefully tonight.”

__________________________

The cow’s health was slowly improving, but it was still quite weak. As Jesus led him to the lake he was distracted by a blur of color on the large beanstalk. It was the boy, and he looked to be carrying something gold and shiny in one of his arms.

The beanstalk shook violently. Jesus looked up and saw Grover the giant clumsily climbing down after the boy.

Jesus moved closer and saw the boy had Grover’s prized golden harp. The boy reached the bottom and grabbed an axe, and started chopping at the beanstalk.

“No,” Jesus said.

With the extra weight of Grover weakening the beanstalk, the boy was able to chop it apart with only a few swings. Grover fell from the beanstalk into a shallow part of the lake. With a large crack, Grover’s neck snapped. He was dead.

“No,” Jesus said.

__________________________

The cow’s health was steadily worsening. Grover’s enormous body was polluting the entire lake, from which the townspeople and many animals got their water.

The cow was so sick from drinking the water that it barely moved.

Jesus looked up at the cottage. It was much more magnificent. Two more stories had been added, and some additional buildings had been built as well. There was a large fence that encircled a good acre around the cottage, and a couple shady-looking townsfolk stood by a new wrought-iron gate.

Jesus patted the cow’s head, then left to slowly walk up to the cottage. The two men walked up to meet him.

“Can we help you?” one of them asked.

“Yes, I need to speak with the boy and his mother,” Jesus replied.

“Sorry, they aren’t expecting visitors.”

“I must see them. The water is polluted. The townspeople are getting sick.”

“Go away before you get hurt.” One of the men advanced on Jesus with a short knife.

Jesus walked back down the hill.

__________________________

It was Sunday morning. The cow lay down on a small makeshift bed of hay by the lake. Its breathing was shallow and pained.

The stench of Grover was horrible. It was so bad that many townspeople had moved away. The ones who had complained had been dealt with by the guards at the cottage. There now numbered over ten guards on the property.

The door to the luxurious cottage opened up and the boy and his mother stepped out. They were both dressed in the finest of clothes. Several guards accompanied them as they reached the edge of their property.

Jesus walked up to them and kneeled down. “Please, my good friends,” Jesus said. “Please. Your cow is dying. The townspeople are sick. Please, can you help your brothers and sisters with fresh water? With medicine? With food?”

The guards moved toward Jesus, but the mother stopped them.

She walked over to Jesus.

“Just who do you think you are, you filthy beggar?” she asked.
“I have to watch my property every day for vagabonds like you stealing water from my well. I sleep with one eye open. I even have to watch my guards to make sure they don’t pinch some of my food.”

“Mom,” the boy said, “we’re going to be late for church.”

“You think it’s easy?” the mother asked. “Take care of your own. I’ll take care of mine. If you come around again I’ll make sure you don’t walk away.”

__________________________

Jesus walked down to the lakeside. Huge swarms of flies buzzed around Grover’s decaying head.

The cow’s eyes were wide and glazed over. Jesus rested his hand on the cow’s neck. It was dead.

Jesus stood up slowly. He pulled his robes around himself and shrugged.

He walked down the muddy road, disappearing into the morning mist.

And that was the last time anyone ever saw Jesus again.

dreadful reimaginings

The Little Train That Shouldn’t Have

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Do you remember way, way back, when I stated I’d like the freedom to be occasionally offensive?

Well, this is one of the stories I had in mind. My main reason for writing this story isn’t to offend. I just thought it would be a funny, horrible story to tell. Hopefully it turned out okay, but that’s not really my call, I guess.

So, without further ado, Splotchy presents another dreadful reimagining:


The little railroad engine was the tiniest of engines, with the smallest boiler and the smallest furnace.

Little Engine mostly just helped out at the train yard, pulling freight cars off and on the switches. But one early morning a long-line of freight cars came into the yard. They asked a large engine to pull it over some hills. The large engine replied, “I’m sorry, I can’t.” The freight cars asked another large engine, but it too replied, “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

Finally, the freight cars asked the Little Engine, who replied, “I can! I can! I think I can!”

So the freight cars hitched up to the Little Engine, and off they went into the sunny fall country.

The freight cars were many, but still rather light. At each small town, the Little Engine stopped. With every stop the freight cars grew heavier and heavier.

The Little Engine came to a small hill. He pushed up the slope with a huff and a puff, and came back down on the other side. As he came down the hill he met a red engine.

“Hi, Mr. Engine, how do you do?” asked the Little Engine.

The red engine frowned, “I’m alright, I guess. As good as can be.” The red engine raised his red eyebrows. “Are you sure you should be pulling your long line of cars?”

“Oh yes, Mr. Engine, that is my job! My job is to take the cars where they go!”

The red engine sighed, “You shouldn’t go, you really should not. But I wish you well. Good day.” And off puffed the red engine, and then he was gone.

The Little Engine stopped at several more towns. And with each town the cars grew heavier and heavier. “My, these cars are making me huff!” thought Little Engine. “My, these cars are making me puff!”

Again Little Engine came to a hill, this one twice as big as the one before. With mighty huffing and mighty puffing, Little Engine finally made it over the hill.

As he came down the hill he met a black engine.

“Hi, Mr. Engine, how do you do?” asked Little Engine.

The black engine sighed, “I could be better. But I’m as good as can be.” The black engine looked at Little Engine then whispered very close, “Are you sure you should be pulling your long line of cars?”

“Oh yes, Mr. Engine, that is my job! My job is to take the cars where they go!”

The black engine muttered, “You shouldn’t go, you really should not. But I wish you well. Good afternoon.” And off puffed the black engine, and then he was gone.

The Little Engine stopped at one more town. And then he came to the largest hill. The Little Engine never had seen such a hill. The freight cars were so heavy, and he was so tired. But Little Engine spoke aloud to himself, “I think I can, I think I can.”

And with that Little Engine started up the hill. It took all of his huffing. It took all his puffing. Little Engine’s wheels strained with every bit of his might. And he said again, louder, louder than before, “I think I can, I think I can!” And the Little Engine went faster and faster. “I think I can, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can!”

And with that the Little Engine came over the top of the hill. Little Engine smiled, and said to himself, “I thought I could! I thought I could!”

And Little Engine, tired, more tired than ever before, rolled to a stop. Hundreds of people got out of his cars. Soldiers escorted the people in through a gate. The Little Engine looked up, and read a large sign:

Arbeit macht frei

Little Engine saw another little engine, whose eyes were droopy, staring at the ground. “What do the words on the sign mean?” Little Engine asked the other little engine.

The other little engine replied, “Work shall set you free.”

The Little Engine smiled. “Yes!” he said, “Yes. Work shall set us free. I thought I could! I thought I could!”

THE END

dreadful reimaginings, nature on the march, products i'd like to see

The Velveteen Cockroach

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Take an impending bug invasion, and reading bedtime stories to my kids, and what do you get?

Synergy, baby.


There was once a velveteen cockroach, and he was really splendid. He was brown and blotchy, with long feelers and skinny little legs. On Christmas morning, he sat wedged in the bottom of Boy’s stocking. He was a gag gift from Boy’s weird uncle.

There were other things in the stocking, nuts and oranges, a toy engine and a velveteen rabbit, but the cockroach was the best of all.

But Boy thought the cockroach was ugly, and dropped him in his toy box. Boy played with Rabbit for two hours. Then Aunts and Uncles came to dinner, and the cockroach and the rabbit were forgotten.

For a long time, the cockroach lived in the toy box. He was naturally shy, and being a cockroach, all the other toys shunned him, especially Rabbit. Even the toy horse, who was usually nice to everyone, wouldn’t talk or look at him.

One day, the Rabbit asked the horse, “What is REAL?”

The horse said, “When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”

One evening, when the Boy was going to bed, he couldn’t find the dog that always slept with him. Nana was in a hurry, and grabbed Rabbit for Boy from the toy box.

“Here,” she said. “Take this bunny. You can sleep with him.” And she put Rabbit in Boy’s arms.

Nana also saw Cockroach. “What a disgusting toy,” she thought to herself. She took him and threw him in the trash outside. Nana did not see that Cockroach bounced out of the trash onto the dirty ground.

Boy and Rabbit grew very close. They did everything together. Sometimes they would walk past Cockroach, who was getting dirtier and dirtier, and was very, very sad.

As time went on, and Rabbit was very happy, he didn’t notice his fur getting shabbier and shabbier. For the cockroach, who still lay on the dirty ground, sadness gave way to hate.

One day the boy grew very ill. Nana took the rabbit because the doctor said it was full of germs, and threw it in the garbage when Boy was sleeping.

Cockroach looked at Rabbit. In a dirty leg he picked up a tiny shard of glass. Cockroach crept toward Rabbit, who was starting to cry because he missed Boy.

With a quick slash, Cockroach sliced Rabbit from his neck to his tummy.

“Barrgggghhhhhhhh!” said Rabbit. He was dead.

Cockroach grabbed Rabbit’s carcass and pulled it over his insect body. As Rabbit’s pelt settled onto Cockroach’s head and back, a tear dripped from Rabbit’s fur on to the dirty ground.

From where the tear fell on the ground, a mysterious flower grew. A blossom opened and a lovely fairy stepped out.

“Do you know who I am, little bunny?” she asked.

Cockroach was quiet.

“I am the toy fairy,” she said. “I take care of toys that children have loved. When they are old and worn and the children don’t need them any more, I make them Real.”

“You were Real to the Boy,” the Fairy said, “because he loved you. Now you shall be Real to every one.”

She waved her wand, and in a flash, Cockroach was real!

“What the?” the toy fairy said. “Rabbit? Rabbit? Hmm. This usually works.” Fairy shrugged her shoulders and disappeared in a shower of sparkles.

Autumn passed and Winter, and in the Spring, when the days grew warm and sunny, boy was in his kitchen.

“Agh!” Nana cried. “A cockroach!”

Boy grabbed a dictionary and smashed the bug into goo.

But he never knew that it really was his own Cockroach, come back to look at the child who had first helped him to be Real.

THE END