Archive for January, 2011

There once was this Coyote who fell in love with Toad. A simple Toad no one could see, she hid in the mud by the roads and byways and highways of man near a city built on the edges of infinity and reason. She holed herself off and hid in a tiny mud hole and never saw the light of day, as she only came out when the moon was full. Seeing as she was Toad, and had a hold of those first magics she lived an ever such a long time and so she just came out once every moon, when she would shake off that mud and grime and go bathe in the radiant spring that was not too far away from the passage of man and his comings and goings along that road towards the city built on the edges of reason and infinity.

But I digress, because there was this old fool of a coyote who had seen Toad from afar, and one night when the moon was full and the men folk who lived in the village not very far away hid themselves in fear that the wildthings would come and gobble them all up. It was just such a night that that wily ol’ critter wound his way right around Toad’s hole and sure enough she came splattering her mud clean near everywhere, not least of which was coyote’s muzzle, and slippery and slimy with mud… and sure as the wind is quick it was love at first sight for that incorrigible old dog.

Maybe it was the way her taut amphibious skin glistened under her jewel like warts. Maybe it was the way her tongue darted artfully out of her large and beautiful lips to glance at a wandering dragonfly that stretched his wings one last time before becoming a snack. Maybe it was her muscular legs all extended and sweet with a slime only a few men could ever understand. Even that coyote couldn’t explain it, and within him grew a lust unlike one he had ever known before (and granted, that old man had known lusts, but this time it was different, somehow) and may never experience again for a Toad, a simple ordinary Toad.

Where others saw warts, he saw jewels of wisdom. Where others saw rudeness, he found civility and charm. Where others saw shallowness, he found depth and precision. Where others saw cruelty, he found wisdom and kindness.

It happened that first night, for under the moon’s rays Toad’s beauty did shine. It was caught up and revealed so bewitchingly sublime. As Toad bathed in the radiant pond underneath dear Luna’s gaze, Her old ugly skin shed, and pure radiant unadulterated beauty shone and burst through her mud induced cocoon of protection that she cast aside once a month. Coyote couldn’t contain himself, and rushed ahead to greet his one true altogether love for ever after, amen.

As he approached Toad swam away towards the opposite shore, and ran as quickly and as spritely as she could around the pond in such a way as to avoid coming into contact with Coyote and eventually she found her way back into her hidey hole next to the byways and highways of men. There to build another coat of mud and stones to hide the glory of Toad from the world. As was her duty to protect another piece of the great mystery from the world, for Toad was that mystery.

But Coyote, being the rascally old man he, had caught a glimpse of her and knew he had to know Toad, in a rather biblical sense, and set about his skills to woo the fair maid from her place of refuge.

“Toad,” He cried out,” Toad, I already seen ya in that pond over there, and I saw how pretty you were once your skin was washed away. There is no reason to hide from me, I won’t tell anyone about your gift… honest. After all I love you”

Though Toad could tell by Coyote’s voice he was being sincere, she knew better than to trust strangers. After all strangers were the leading cause of Toad deaths in the last 50 generations according to the Toad Information Network (T.I.N. : The nightly croaking choruses of toads and frogs who exchange vital survival information through a vast network of croak-master generals, silence keepers, and cantors).

“I can’t trust you that easily Coyote,” she said in her most dignified lady Toad cadence,” Many folk have seen me, and given me that selfsame oath, but none have lived until morning’s light. Only my true love would ever be able to survive the ordeal. Maybe you will be the first.”

And with a chuckle Toad fell asleep in her burrow, while coyote pondered for a moment over what the toad had said.

As the night wore on Coyote ringed himself about Toad’s hole and decided to capture a bit of sleep while he could, since he believed he may have a better chance of convincing Toad of his sincerity if he were to protect her through the night. As the stars shone overhead, coyote counted them as modern man proverbially counts sheep and gradually found a moment of slumber before the first trial began, only thinking to himself that the very stars that dotted the skies simply paled in comparison to the radiance that was Toad.

Swift lightning poured from a cloudless sky and darted all about where coyote lay, great sizzling fireworks of wonder and awe gushing from nowhere and dancing all about coyote as he lay perfectly still and unmolested in anyway. Snoring ever so slightly, and not once stirring from his rest.
As the firestorm stopped with a sizzle and a poof, Toad hiccupped in her sleep and coyote’s ear followed the noise.

The night moved along and the moon rolled across the sky, when along the road rose a swarm of dust as the footsteps of man charged and tromped. Carrying a large bell and huge cisterns of water as they ran towards a bright fire atop many building of the nearby village in the distance. Screams and shouts of terror filled the entire township as more men and women filled the road and shielded their eyes from the massive blaze. Many brave men and women fought valiantly against the flames… and lost. The city that once stood on the edge of reason and infinity was now nothing more than rubble for an archeologist to sift through in a far and unknown future. A scourge of refuges took to the road as their nomadic ancestors before them had done, and with little in the way of possessions and a few head of cattle, the scattered remains jostle by in a hopeless shuffle, and Toad sneezed and though none of the other noises had moved coyote, her sneeze perked his ear and in his sleep he whispered, “Bless you.”

As the rays of the sun were just peaking over the horizon, a peddler traveling along the road in search of the village that had previously burned down, stumbled across the sleeping coyote and demanded that he be told what had happened to the once great city that was here just days before. Coyote, who could not speak the tongue of man (and the man who could not speak the language of beasts) found himself at a quandary and realized that if he didn’t do something to protect himself he would probably end up as another pelt among the peddler’s wares to be sold in the next town he happened to wander across.

As Coyote pondered his fate, Toad chose at that time to wander out of her hole to see what the commotion she had heard was about, not knowing that the peddler’s boot heel was nary 3 inches from her little Toad hole. As she emerged, coyote peered down in horror as he was about to witness his one true love’s demise and took that very moment to bite deeply into the webbing on the peddler’s hand intending to bite the peddler just hard enough so as to cause the man to stumble.

Coyote’s fangs found an easy target that day, and dug deeply and smoothly into the peddler’s flesh. Like a knife through warm butter they snuck their way through clean to the other side. Coyote clung to the hand as he felt his eyes bulging clean out of their sockets for the man had begun to choke him in an effort to free himself from Coyote’s strong and painfully powerful jaws. He writhed and he clawed at the man with all of his might. His fur got tattered and shredded, and still Coyote clung on for dear life and the peddler lost hold of Coyote’s throat and as his grip was loosened, that tricky old dog clamored up the man’s head and found his way to stand over Toad so as not to let any harm befall her.

With hackles raised and his fangs bared and bloodied, Coyote snarled and chased that peddler off and down the road, and Toad crawled back into her tiny little Toad hole and waited patiently for her true love, Coyote to return.

It took twenty eight days for Coyote to come back to Toad’s little hole along a road soon to be forgotten by men, twenty eight days for the peddler to be chased so few and far between that he actually decided to give up peddling and write stories instead, but that is a tale for another day.

That Coyote he returned, a little more ragged for wear, and tired, and man was he thirsty. You try running for twenty eight days straight and see how you fare. But twenty eight days or hellfire, high water, lightning, disasters, thirst nor peddlers didn’t matter much to the heart of coyote, and his heart rang true for every single trial and tribulation he had faced in order to win Toad’s affection was as honest as the truth could ever be.

Coyote slumped in front of the Toad hole and called out to his love, and crooned softly to his beloved as he waited for moonrise, when his star shine Toad of beauty and wonder would emerge and he would once again be reunited with his heart’s desire. As daylight crept slowly into the west and darkness filled the night with stars of every shape and size, slowly the moon rolled across the heavens.

Ever so daintily, Toad emerged from her hole and motioned for Coyote to stand back as she slung mud this way and that, to reveal a glistening morsel of purest purity, beauty and glamour unbeknownst to man or beast, before or hence. As she shone in purest form of symmetry and divinity, coyote’s eyes filled with wonder as he drew her up into his arms and greeted her with a soulful kiss.

As muzzle touched light there was an implosion of sorts… a sudden knowingness, an inertia where two souls become one in a way few will ever know and many folk are often fooled into believing is something that happens through biblical relations, but it goes far deeper than that.

As their lips parted, and a string of drool stretched infinitely between their lips, coyote stood and walked away never to return to his true love again.
I often asked that Old Fool why he never returned to that little toad hole on the edge of infinity and reason and he would only shake his head in dismay and let me know that he’d rather have the beautiful memory than the pain that would eventually follow.

In the end he knew he was a coyote, who was born to roam the hills with not much in his hide other than a good dose of Fuck you and a smile to keep him company. While she was a toad, a star wrapped in mud to hide her glory from thieves that didn’t even know a treasure laid at their feet.
Different worlds that though lovely and miraculous to have ever found one another along the great wanderings of sun, moon and stars along the eons and rivers of time were in fact quite divergent and polar opposites and tantamount to destruction for either one of them if they dared tarry to long in one another’s world.

That Coyote told me Toad knew this too, after all she was strong in that great mystery tied to the enigmas and wrapped in stories told on the lips of wolf, bear, eagle and man, but I often wonder if that coyote just made excuses to hide the ache left in his heart after his dance with Toad was over.

Some say a coyote howls to thank the moon for her light, while I am left wondering if his lonesome cry is for love unrealized and the emptiness that followed.