Video reblogged from with 21 notes
The Moonmen (by Joey Pedras)
I would love it if you watched my new short film. It would mean the world to me.
It’s about two “Moonmen” that happened upon the planet one random evening.
OMFG YES THIS IS THE FUNNIEST FUCKING THING IN MY LIFE RIGHT NOW I CAN’T FUCKING STOP
The year is 1693 and you’re a 10 year old farm girl named Sarah in the newly formed Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Mother made you a special breakfast of barely snaps and honey flaps and Papa said he’d bring you a whole box of sugar plums when he returned from town. A whole box!
”Why, father, I imagine I’ll eat till my belly is full! I’ll eat till I burst!”You declare, not fully understanding the digestive properties of plums, you have no idea that if you eat an entire box of plums, you’ll shit yourself. Just don’t shit yourself in church, they’ll think you’re possessed.
You’re gonna eat them in the shade of your favorite elm tree and read Don Quixote (God that sounds super boring, but people did stuff like that back then).
The book merchant gave the book to you special “Just so’s long as you don’t tell the pastor” he warned. Pastor Charles didn’t like his parishioners reading anything that wasn’t the bible, but you wanted to learn! Papa had taught you to read by candle light and after you’d devoured the complete works of William Shakespeare (alright, “devoured” is a strong word. You stuttered your way through Othello and when it became too hard to process since you’d never seen a real black person, you sort of just stopped reading) you wanted to know the world! You heard Sancho Panza rides a donkey! Imagine that! A man riding a donkey! OH WHAT FUN!
You were instructed to return home from your lessons immediately after they were done. No dawdling. Mother said come right home. Don’t stop to skip rocks with the cobbler’s son, he’s been touched by the Devil (really he just had a lisp, people were afraid of everything back then), don’t stop to feed the church mice and don’t go with the other children to watch sap run from the maple tree (God life was boring back then). Don’t stop to do any of these things and certainly don’t, for any reason, any reason at all, go in the yard of The Window Hibbins.
Lessons are done for the day, the sun is setting and you can smell your mother’s fresh horse cakes from a mile away. It’s time to head home but instead, what do you do? You’re go right into the yard of The Widow Hibbins. You’re not adventurous, you’re an idiot.
If asked later you’ll just explain that you had to go. Samuel The Pig Slop Boy, son of Jacob The Pig Slop Man, threw his favorite toy, a…fucking, ball of twine or whatever the hell kids played with back then, right into her yard and he promised you 3 Horehound Drops if you fetched it for him. It’s easy for you to hop a fence, you’ve always been tall and lanky. Even at 10 you stood a clear foot taller than all the other children in your church group and you could always outrun the boys (you might be a lesbian).
You hop the fence and search for the twine ball. Why, there it is! Under the bramble bush! But, ‘tis stuck. You pull and pull, with all your might. Finally, with all the strength you have left, you give it one final tugg. The twine ball comes free, sending you flying backward. You tumble for what seems like ages and when you finally come to a stop, you look around.
When did it get so dark? You call out for the other children, but no one answers. How long were you tugging at that twine ball? Why, it’s pitch black outside, surely the others will be searching for you. You’d best be on your way back… But which way is back? No matter, the fireflies will surely show you…
That seems odd. There are always fireflies out and about at night in July. You shiver. Why is it so cold? ‘Tis the summer solstice, only harvest season brings such chilling winds from the north. You stumble for a moment in the dark, you ask yourself, “what would Don Quixote do?” Why, he would march forth! He would remain undaunted in his pursuit of…Whatever he was going after, you don’t know since you hadn’t started the book yet. Crap. You look up to the sky, you see the moon. The pastor had warned you about the moon and how it’s a tool of the devil. Dude seems to think everything is a tool of the devil. Really the only tool you can think of that’s like, actually, a tool of the devil would be a like, a pitchfork but only because you’ve seen him holding it in drawings.
"Why have you come to this place?" a voice asks. You answer, instinctively, "to fetch the twine ball thrown ‘oer the fence. Who’s there?"
From the blackness, she appears. The Widow Hibbins. Cloaked in black, with black hair, her eyes as black as the night…Which is also black…Lotta black happening here.
"You’re name is Sarah and it’s your 10th birthday" she says. “‘Tis true, but how hast thou been made privy to such private information, may I ask?" You reply.
"Child. Don’t you know that I see all? I am The Widow Hibbins. I’ve lived for centuries times two.”
"I’m sorry" you say "I don’t know my arithmetic yet, Pastor says math is the tool of-"
"The Devil?" Widow Hibbins quips.
"Why yes" you say.
The Widow Hibbins pauses, you kind of fucked up her flow. You’re totally not getting that she’s evil and it’s bothering her. Quite bluntly, and sort of breaking character, she says “Ugh. A century is 100 years and I said a century times 2…so that’s two centuries.” You stare at her, blankly.
"It means I’m 200 years old! Can I finish?" she snaps.
"Yes, of course" you say "Sorry."
The Widow Hibbins inhales sharply, this is her big moment. She’s super pumped. Kids like, barely ever come into her yard. This is like Christmas for her, if she believed in God, which she doesn’t because…SHE’S A WITCH!
"Oh my heavens" you utter. "You’re The Widow Hibbins!"
"I…I already told you that. Like, I just fucking said that.” she replies, irked.
"Oh, right" you sheepishly reply. "You’re a witch."
The Widdow Hibbins is beyond annoyed. It’s been fifty years since anyone wandered into her yard and she’s been practicing her witch speech this whole time and you keep interrupting it!
"Ugh, you know what? Fine. Forget it" she says "I had a whole spiel planned and now the moment is ruined. I was gonna give this whole speech and I even had fire balls planned, I was gonna like, light up a whole thing and make a big production but you’ve totally killed my buzz, so, do me a favor and just get in the doll."
"What?!" You say, frightened.
"Yeah, the doll." She says, holding up a rag doll that sort of looks like you… Weird. You stare blankly at her. Widow Hibbins rolls her eyes, she takes a calming breath, you’re stressing her out. "The doll! Ugh, Imake these dolls to look like the village children-"
"That’s an awful lot of dolls" you mutter.
"I HAVE A LOT OF FREE TIME! I’M A WITCH! I DON’T HAVE A DAY JOB! Fuckin’ A, you’re annoying. I make these dolls that look like the village children then I lure one into my yard and then I put your soul IN the doll, where it’s trapped forever, capisce?”
"Capisce? Is that Latin?" you inquire, you’ve always been a curious girl.
"OH MY GODESS, that? THAT’S what you got from that whole speech? I just told you I’m gonna take your soul and make you live in a doll and ‘is that Latin?’ is what you ask?” She yells, exhausted at your stupidity.
"Well is it?" You repeat.
"I…Uh…Okay, sort of, yeah." She concedes. "It’s Italian, so, kind of close. You aren’t totally off base."
"Base?" You reply?
"Base like in Baseball?" She snaps.
"Baseball?" You ask.
"BASE FUCKING BALL. The national past time of the United States of America!" She screams.
"United States of America?" You repeat.
"Ah fuck, it’s 1693, USA isn’t a thing yet… Whatever. I’m over this." she hisses.
Two smoke clouds and an eye of newt later… You’re in the doll.
And there you stayed, trapped. As you aged, the doll aged. You lived out your days in the doll, amid hundreds of other dolls, collected from years passed. You lived to be about 60 and, when you died, the doll’s face faded. The more time went on, the more the doll lost it’s detail until it was a stained, weathered, stinky doll that looks like someone spilled old pee on.
This is that doll. It now sits in the corner of a B&B in Swampscott.
The Widow Hibbins just sort of added the key later, for effect, it doesn’t open anything. It’s from an estate sale.
$45, the estate manager found a ton of these dolls. Sometimes when they’re alone in the room, the door will inexplicably shut. Some of the dolls aren’t “dead” yet.
The #CodeMonkeySaveWorld team is making a kids’ book based on @jonathancoulton’s awesome song “The Princess Who Saved Herself” if we hit our next Kickstarter stretch goal!
Art by the great Takeshi Miyazawa, colors by the awesome Jessica Kholinne.
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