Trickster, the prince of Halloween invited me out to his ranch in Montana. He and Mother Nature bought 500 acres south of Bozeman several years ago. I had trepidations about going because you never quite know what to expect with Trickster. Sometimes he’s mellow and serious, other times, more prone to violence. There was a party one time where I had brought him a special jug of elf mead, to drink as needed for medicinal use of course. Things were festive for a while with Trickster sitting back, taking a sip now and then – the jug never far out of his reach, and telling some old zombie stories. But suddenly the night turned dark and terrifying when Trickster got it in his head that Dexter and Pete, two youngsters from his gremlin posse where sneaking gulps from the mead jug when Trickster wasn’t looking. Trickster jumped to his feet and threatened to cut off their scaly ears and use them for pumpkin embellishments.
“They got their own shit,” he said to me through the sagging slits of his drunken eyes.
Like I said, you never know with him.
But I figured this time it would be okay because Mother Nature would be there and she always had a calming effect on him. Except June through November. Hurricane season. And even though it was only September, the hurricane season had been light – just a few small countries in Africa got obliterated - not even worth mentioning really, and both of them were in fine moods when I arrived.
I sat down at the kitchen table opposite Trickster, and smiled pleasantly.
“So tell me,” Trickster said after a moment. “You ever have problems with your elves, and by “problems” I mean do you ever find it necessary to kill them?”
“No, never had to kill an elf, Trickster,” I said.
“Never, huh…” he said. “Gee.” He thought about that. “You just whip them?”
“Uh, no, Trickster, I don’t” I said, looking at Mother Nature for a clue where this was going.
He sighed heavily. “Reason I ask is that a few of the gremlins accidentally, and by “accidentally” I mean did something they weren’t supposed to do and then lied about it… well, they broke into Mother Nature’s prize rose garden and made a mess of the place.”
Mother Nature stared absent-mindedly out the kitchen window. “They broke all the flowers, not just the roses.” She looked at the back yard and took in a deep breath of lilac and magnolia. She closed her eyes. “But I can always grow more,” she said, cradling the dish towel to her chest like a nursing baby. She smiled dreamingly. “I can always grow more.”
“That’s not the point, Mother,” Trickster said, shaking his head.
He looked at me and slapped my knee. “Hey, know what we ought to do?”
I hesitated.
“We need to get rid of all the elves and gremlins and get us some Umpa Lumpas.”
Mother Nature turned from the window and clicked her tongue at Trickster.
“What Mother?” Trickster shot back. “I can get Umpa Lumpas if I want to! You don’t think I can? I’ll steal them if I have to.” He turned to me. “Someone’s got to have some Umpa Lumpas around here, don’t you think? I wonder if they have any on Craigslist?”
“You're not stealing any Umpa Lumpas from anyone.” Mother Nature clutched the towel to her chest again. “They need to be free and happy and play in the fields and laugh and sing with all the elves and those nasty gremlins too.” She paused for a moment and then said thoughtfully, “I wonder if Umpa Lumpas come toilet trained, or if you have to do that yourself.”
You gotta love Mother Nature.
She helps me remember that it’s the little, unimportant things about people that matter.
